Session Five
The next time he came in, Allen brought in a stuffed elephant that Ichigo had gotten him, smiling with embarrassment.
"Ichigo took me to a zoo," he told Kazama, who seemed to listen with mild interest. "We went with his sisters, and we even got to feed the elephants." He smiled, and he really meant it, holding the elephant to his chest. "It was so different from what I was expecting... the circus I worked at had a baby elephant, you know. I think it was the only thing there that was treated worse than I was. They'd just gotten it when I arrived, so they were still, you know, breaking it in." His smile faded, thinking of the way the poor young elephant had been dragged around, stumbling and crying out.
"What did you think of the elephants at the zoo?" Kazama asked. Allen's smile returned.
"They seemed really happy," he said. "Zeus, our elephant, was always laying down in his cage whenever he wasn't being trained, and he'd sort of scoff at you if you came near him, like he was all fed up with humans. But the elephants at the zoo came right up to us, and they let us pat them on the trunk and tusks. They seemed really relaxed, and their enclosure was huge. And when they wanted the elephants to move, they just sort of whistled at them and called them along, and pushed them with their hands. They didn't use ropes or hooks."
"Such practices have been outlawed for years," Kazama assured him, the same thing Ichigo had said. "Did you get the elephant at the gift shop?"
Allen nodded. "I was shocked to see so many different plush toys... ah, stuffed animals, Ichigo called them. Karin and Yuzu had a whole argument over whether I should get a lion or an elephant - I'd mentioned that Garvey Circus had both." He laughed a little. "Ichigo offered to get both just to settle it, but I picked the elephant because its features are kind of funny." He tugged on the trunk fondly.
"It sounds like it went well," Kazama said. "How was the rest of your week?"
Right, this wasn't exactly what they were here to talk about, was it? Allen gave Kazama a somewhat embarrassed smile, tucking the stuffed animal closer.
"It went fairly well, I think," he said. "It turns out that Krory and Link had rather uncertain plans for where to go next, and they're entertaining the idea of coming with me."
"Did you have any more issues with mood?" Kazama prompted. Allen grimaced, but decided to head off the inevitable scolding rather than denying it.
"Once," he admitted. "Which is still better than last week, mind. Still, I was thinking of all the reasons that Link and Krory may not want to come with me, and... ah, I asked Jerry to teach me how to make hot chocolate. I think he noticed I was feeling disheartened, so he was rather sweet about it. It was nice to be around him, I admit." On the other hand, he'd felt worse afterward for having bothered him, especially since his spirits had still been low when they parted, and he was sure Jerry had noticed. He hoped he hadn't made the man worry too much.
"And what did you think?" Kazama asked.
"I liked it," Allen said. "I think that's one I'll come back to."
"Good," Kazama said, looking satisfied. "Did you think about what we discussed last week?"
Allen sighed, then nodded reluctantly. He took a deep breath, braced himself, and told Kazama, "I can acknowledge... that my friends do want me to stop hiding my distress from them. I know this for certain because they've asked me to many times. I can even see why that would lead them to feel that I don't trust them. But... I'm worried by the thought that I might accidentally push them too far."
"What do you mean by that?" Kazama prompted. Allen took another deep breath, closed his eyes, and embraced the stuffed elephant, forcefully centering himself.
"I..." His voice failed him, and after a moment, he compromised and spoke softly, almost in a whisper. "I... don't know... how much I'm worth to them."
"I'm sorry?" When he glanced up, Kazama was frowning, his brow creased deeply in puzzlement.
Allen couldn't help it. He sat up, smiled brightly, and set the elephant aside. "Nothing, really. I actually wanted to-"
"Stop that," Kazama snapped, and Allen froze. Kazama exhaled. "You were doing well. That was obviously very difficult for you to say, which, with you, generally means that it was honest. I would like you to elaborate."
"...I shouldn't have said it. It's not normal to think in such terms. I apologize." Allen's hands clenched nervously on his lap, barely able to keep them from shaking.
"That is why you are here," Kazama reminded him, terse and impatient. "Your perception of other people has been influenced by the fact that your experiences have been unusually brutal. That is, in fact, one of the main things we are here to talk about. It is normal and expected that you will have atypical thought patterns, and we cannot address them unless you allow us to discuss them."
Frustration lashed at Allen's chest, and his fists tightened further. "It's not that it isn't true," he disagreed. "It's just... not polite to discuss."
"Then be impolite," Kazama returned, unmoved.
"Fine," Allen snapped. "Relationships have set values. You accepted me as a patient as a favor to Ishida Ryuuken, yes? If my difficulty as a patient exceeds the combined value of that promise and the money you are being paid, then you will terminate the relationship. I am fine with that; that is how relationships work. Likewise, my value to Master was nearly infinite. He had spent thirty-five years looking for Neah's vessel, and once he had me he couldn't afford to let me go. That meant there was virtually nothing I could do to make him terminate our relationship."
"Ah, I see what you mean." Unexpectedly, Kazama looked more contemplative than affronted, and he crossed his arms on his desk, studying Allen for a moment. Allen exhaled sharply, forcing his fists to loosen. Then, even more surprising, Kazama continued, "There are elements of truth in what you say. Most people refer to it as a balance - relationships must be balanced in order to be considered sustainable. Each party should be receiving around the same amount of value from the relationship as the effort and resources they put into it. Just as I would terminate the relationship if you became aggressive or violent - what one might call a deal-breaker - you would terminate it if the strain you started to feel exceeded the combined value of the amount you were recovering and your promise to Ichigo. Is that right?"
Thrown off-guard by the easy acceptance of his viewpoint, Allen hesitated for a moment, then nodded cautiously. "I suppose," he acknowledged reluctantly. And then, "A deal-breaker... is that... something that would cause you to terminate the relationship regardless of its value?"
"Precisely," Kazama confirmed. "However, you should know that outside of specific 'deal-breaker' scenarios, relationships rarely break all at once. More often, they splinter and crack over time, and the amount of damage they can endure varies depending on the strength of the bond. A new relationship is far more fragile than one that has been strengthened by time and effort."
"That is... probably true," Allen allowed, still hesitant. He couldn't think of a single time he'd experienced that himself, but there were often extenuating circumstances around his relationships.
Kazama nodded sharply. "Most relationships can exist in a state of substantial imbalance for quite some time before breaking down," he told Allen. "If a relationship is unbalanced, people will typically take steps to correct that before terminating the relationship altogether - they will set boundaries, make requests, or initiate discussions in order to strengthen your relationship. If they do not, it is typically because they, like you, are not familiar with those skills."
"Oh..." Allen fidgeted with the ear of his elephant for a moment, and then asked, "Can you... expand on that for me?"
"Setting boundaries is the skill of clearly asking people not to do things which upset you," Kazama explained without missing a beat. "If Ichigo had asked you not to request he buy things for you, that would have been setting a boundary. Making requests means asking for the things you want from a relationship. If you live far away from one of your friends, and they send letters much more often than you do, they might ask you to send letters more frequently. Discussions can be initiated to clarify anything else that might be awry - for instance, if you have an argument, you might initiate a discussion later to handle any hurt feelings or misunderstandings that contributed to it."
Allen remained quiet for a few minutes, playing with the elephant's trunk as he absorbed the information. Kazama let him have the time, thankfully, and at last, Allen said, "If you don't mind my saying so... it seems like those skills would only allow me to become more comfortable in my relationships, rather than strengthening the relationships themselves."
Kazama closed his eyes and sighed, making Allen jump slightly, alarmed.
"Relationships go both ways," Kazama said after a moment, opening his eyes to settle a stern gaze on Allen. "Both you and your friend should feel happy and fulfilled in your relationship; therefore, ensuring that you are happy and fulfilled is one half of what makes the relationship strong."
Well, sure, but that wasn't really relevant; there was nothing Allen's friends could do to make him abandon them. Allen wanted his friends to be satisfied with what they were receiving from him. But it was obvious that Kazama was already frustrated, so Allen hesitated, trying to find a diplomatic way to put it.
"What is it?"
Of course, Kazama didn't have the patience for that. Allen repressed a sigh.
"It seems like a moot point," he said at last, looking deliberately away from Kazama. "I can't think of anything that would make me unhappy enough to end a relationship. That is why I wanted to focus on... the other end."
There was a pause.
"That was an unfair point for me to focus on," Kazama acknowledged, startling Allen. "But I would like you to remember that your happiness in your relationships is important. It makes up one half of the relationship. Do you understand?"
"...More or less." Allen shifted in place, squeezing his stuffed animal against him.
"You've gotten tense."
So he had. Allen forced himself to relax, straightened up, and gave Kazama an embarrassed smile. Kazama didn't look impressed.
"Stop performing," Kazama told him. Allen's smile vanished. "Deliberately obfuscating what you're feeling is not going to help us here. If you ever manage to actually fool me, it's only going to make things harder for both of us."
Involuntarily, Allen clenched his jaw, dropped his gaze, and allowed himself to tense again, riding out the frustration that wanted to run his mouth. He clenched his fist against the toy, then relaxed it, taking a deep breath. "I'm not trying to be difficult."
"I know you're not," Kazama said, sounding surprisingly honest. "You're defaulting to coping mechanisms that you have depended on for years. I am telling you, without censure, to stop using them here. Acknowledging why you became tense will help me build the lexicon I need to effectively communicate with you. Seems like something I said stressed you out."
Allen hesitated, tightening his grip on his stuffed elephant. It felt like his heart was racing, and he wasn't entirely sure why.
"You... seemed to be irritated," he said, tugging on the ear anxiously. "I've been extremely difficult today. I apologize."
"Don't apologize," Kazama sighed, reaching up to rub his nose. Allen held his breath. "Let me make this clear. You are not difficult. You are painfully defensive when it comes to your feelings, with a classic 'fawn' response to confrontation. These are normal and expected behaviors for someone with your background, and I assure you, I did not go into this profession expecting all of my patients to be easy. That would have been foolish to the point of stupidity. Further, it is clear that you are taking these sessions seriously, and you are putting substantial effort into cooperating, despite the fact that it is emotionally taxing for you. That is the most important thing you can do. As long as you are trying, you are not being a 'difficult client.'"
"I- okay." Allen shut his eyes and took a few deep, careful breaths, successfully calming himself down this time. "Can we- you were talking about relationship skills?"
"So I was," Kazama acknowledged, allowing them to slide back on topic. "Let's see..."
"Both sides of a relationship are equally important?"
"Right," he muttered. "The point of all that was, with an established relationship like you have with your friends, you'll typically have plenty of opportunities to strengthen or repair your relationship before it breaks. Your friends also value your relationship and would prefer to remain friends. The number of obvious opportunities varies depending on how good your friends are at those skills we talked about, but they'll pretty much never end without any warning at all. And if they're really bad at it, you can ask them if they'd like to set a boundary or make a request. That's what your friends are doing now, by the way."
Allen stiffened. "What do you mean?" he asked warily.
"Your friends have noticed an imbalance in your relationship, and they're trying to correct it," Kazama said, without hesitation. "You're giving them more emotional support than they're giving you, so they're trying to encourage you to seek more support, because they feel that you're not getting enough."
"Ah? But I'm not upset with them at all!" Allen felt dismayed.
"Relationships are not defined by what may or may not end them," Kazama returned flatly. "I highly doubt that your friends think that you are going to leave because of this imbalance. Amazingly, your friends want you to be happy. Are they aware of your suicide attempt?"
"...Only some of them," Allen admitted, soft and reluctant. "But it's considered common knowledge that I'm prone to melancholia, which is... akin to depression, as far as I know."
"If your friends know you suffer from depression, then it's extremely normal behavior for them to encourage you to seek more support from them," Kazama told him firmly. "Not because they're afraid you'll be unhappy with them if they don't, but because they know you need it, and they want to help you. If they later start to feel that you are taking too much from them, it is also up to them to communicate that, and set an appropriate boundary."
Allen drew the stuffed elephant even closer, hesitated a moment, and then admitted, even softer, "I don't know how." He let that sit for a moment, and when Kazama didn't immediately respond, he continued, more frustrated, "I- I don't even really understand what I'm supposed to be asking for. 'Support' is such a meaningless term. What 'support' am I meant to be asking for when the only thing I want is to stop existing?"
It didn't trip Kazama up like he'd thought it would.
"The first step is to tell them how you're feeling," he told Allen without missing a beat. "It will help if you can also tell them why you're feeling that way, but it's not strictly necessary. From there, your friend will themselves decide how to respond - they might ask you to tell them what's troubling you, initiate a soothing activity, or offer to distract you from your troubles. Those are the things they want to do for you."
That they thought they wanted to do, Allen thought silently. They didn't know what he was like when he was upset.
"Spit it out."
Allen huffed, twisting slightly to lean sideways against the back of the couch. "Can you give me some time to think?"
Kazama leveled an unimpressed look at him. "When you stop hiding your questions and concerns."
Allen sighed, irritated despite himself. "I have trouble regulating myself when I'm in that state. It makes me sensitive and antagonistic. I'd rather not subject my friends to that, especially when most of them are not familiar with that side of me."
Kazama's interest was immediately caught. "Most of them?"
Allen shrugged uncomfortably. "Kanda gets on my nerves, so he's not unused to me being testy with him," he said. "He doesn't seem to mind - as he shouldn't, since he's like that with absolutely everybody. But he also has no social skills whatsoever, so he's certainly not an option for support. He would have no idea what to do."
Kazama leaned forward, studying Allen. "You speak of him differently than you do your other friends."
Allen blinked. "Ah... I suppose I do." He shifted, looking down to play with the ears of his elephant again. "Kanda and I are very different people. He's a very straightforward kind of person. He doesn't believe in putting on airs, and he prefers to cut to the core of an issue rather than taking the time to handle things delicately. It's maddening, but it certainly leaves no room for ambiguity. I always know exactly what he's thinking." He smiled fondly.
"That sounds like the type of communication you requested from me," Kazama noted. "But you also find him frustrating?"
Allen huffed. "He doesn't have a sensitive bone in his body," he complained. "He just- says things! With no regard to the impact they might have on anyone! And he certainly doesn't care if something was intended to remain private."
"Ah." Kazama pushed his glasses further up his nose and met Allen's eyes. "Can he read you well?"
Allen froze, and then, after a moment, sighed and looked away, twisting the ear of his elephant. "Better than anyone else," he admitted grudgingly. "I have no idea how, but it feels like he sees right through me. And then he doesn't even do me the courtesy of keeping quiet!"
"Does he tend to help you, or harm you?"
Allen exhaled heavily, keeping his eyes averted. "He helps, typically," he conceded. "He... tends to lance things, like an abscess, without warning. It's a painful process, but mercifully short, and he keeps doing it no matter how angry it makes me."
Kazama nodded, slow and thoughtful, and then asked, "Is that what you need from me? To be harsh but clear?"
Allen hesitated, genuinely considering it for a moment, and then shook his head decisively. "I appreciate the lack of ambiguity in his communication," he said, "but he can be very harsh. The last time he... did that, I punched him in the face. That is the kind of reaction it elicits from me, and therefore it only works because we're already quite rough with each other. No one else would have said it, and if they had, I probably would have brushed them off."
"That's quite a reaction. May I ask what he said?"
Allen glanced up and met Kazama's eyes. "He suggested digging up Mana's grave, to prove something Road said. If it was true, it would be empty." Pause. "It was."
Kazama made a soft sound of recognition. "You trust Kanda quite a lot, don't you?"
Allen made a face, then said, reluctantly, "Most of my friends would tell you that Kanda is the person I trust the most."
"Do you feel that's true?"
Kazama always insisted on asking the hard questions. Allen sighed. "...Yes. I think so. At least, he is the person I feel the most secure with."
"Why is that?"
Allen shot Kazama a sharp look, but didn't protest the obvious probe. "There is nothing I can do to drive him away," he said after a moment. "As many disagreements as we've had already, I feel certain of that. If he was ever going to grow fed up with me, it would have happened a long time ago."
"I'll be blunt," Kazama said at last, decisively. Allen frowned at him, and Kazama met his eyes. "The fact that you only feel safe losing control around Kanda indicates that your friends are correct in feeling like you don't trust them, because you are afraid to express the full range of your emotions. In a healthy, thriving relationship, you should be able to get angry, express hurt, break down, and make mistakes without expecting the relationship to suffer for it. Over the next week, I'd like you to closely observe the people around you and the emotions they express with each other and with you."
"...Okay." Allen played with the trunk of his plush toy, and didn't voice his misgivings.
"What is it?"
Allen sighed. Why did he even bother?
"I'm sure other people do it with each other," Allen said, dismissive and borderline contemptuous. "I know they do, in fact, because plenty of people like Kanda, and he's an ass, to everyone, all the time. However, I know from experience that it does not work for me."
He'd already said too much. He bit his tongue and scowled down, hugging the elephant to his chest as he started to feel cold.
"...I see. And why, pray tell, are you so certain that this method works for quite literally everyone in the world except you?"
Allen clenched his jaw. "I don't wish to talk about it."
"You do still have your safeword."
Allen met Kazama's eyes with a steely glare. "No. I don't wish to speak about it. Ever."
Kazama, unfortunately, looked painfully unmoved, and for the first time, Allen seriously considered getting up and walking away. He didn't have to be here - Ichigo would certainly understand him dropping it, since he hadn't exactly been able to hide how difficult it had been so far. If Kazama insisted that this was the only way forward, Allen was fully entitled to give up on it and content himself with what he had already.
After a brief stalemate, Kazama's expression smoothed out, and he visibly shifted to damage control mode. Allen barely suppressed the urge to growl at him, but something of his anger must have come through, because the man quickly shifted back, frowning deeply.
"I'll ask again," Kazama decided. Allen clenched his fists. "What is it exactly that makes you so unique that you and you alone are not allowed to express your negative emotions? And specifically, I suspect, your anger?"
Allen was done with this. He was sick of it. He would have to apologize to Ichigo later.
"Fine," he snapped. "It is because I am a worthless, makeshift person, who exists only to suffer and die. No one has ever, in my entire life, wanted me. I had to learn, over time, what traits made people likable, and then imitated them. But make no mistake, there is not a single thing that is likable about me."
He felt dizzy. Why did he feel dizzy? Belatedly, he realized he was breathing hard and fast, like he'd broken into a run. He pulled back and tried to catch his breath, but it was like his lungs wouldn't inflate all the way. His hands spasmed in the beginnings of panic, his nails digging into his sides as he gasped.
"Easy, kid."
The sofa dipped beside him, and a warm hand landed on his shoulder, firm and steady. A moment later, Kazama pushed the stuffed elephant against Allen's chest, and he clutched at it instinctively.
"Focus on that for a minute," Kazama told him, still calm. "How's it feel?"
It felt... it felt...
It took Allen a minute to focus on the stuffed toy in his arms, blocking out everything else as his body threatened to buckle under his raging emotions. His throat was dry, and he had to slow his gasps before he managed to croak, "It's... soft."
Without thinking, he pulled his right glove off with his teeth and ran his hand over the soft material, shaking.
"Nice, isn't it?"
"...Yeah." He shifted his grip to hug it better, then closed his eyes, still breathing hard. After a minute, he shifted again, curling up tighter to bring up the trunk and press his cheek against it. He wondered what had happened to Zeus the baby elephant after the circus vanished.
After a while, Kazama pulled his hand away and got up, probably deciding that Allen had calmed down enough. He sighed and played with the trunk, trying to work up the energy to sit up and face what he'd just done. Before he did, though, Kazama sat down again, and something plastic and crinkly nudged against his hand.
"Take it. It's sweet."
"Mm?" Distracted, Allen tilted his head, then accepted the half-unwrapped peppermint stick and put it in his mouth. The sharp, minty flavor startled him back to himself, and without thinking, he looked up, somehow surprised to see Kazama seated beside him.
He didn't look angry, or disgusted. That was strange.
"Better?" he asked. Allen hesitated, then nodded. "Good. That looked rough."
He didn't get up, though, instead staying seated less than a foot away from Allen. After a minute, Allen looked away, removing the peppermint stick from his mouth. Between that and the stuffed animal squashed against him, not to mention the tantrum he'd just thrown, he suddenly felt profoundly childish.
"Sorry," he said softly, feeling the shame and frustration crash down on him like a murky waterfall. Dr. Kazama had had some genuinely good ideas, and seemed to know what he was talking about - why had Allen thrown that away for a minute of bitter satisfaction? Infantile behavior. He put the stick back in his mouth, feeling glum.
"It's fine. As outbursts go, that was definitely more brutal for you than me."
Kind of him to say. Allen didn't respond, focusing on the candy to avoid engaging.
"Ugh. That's not a tool I should've given you, is it?"
Allen froze, half-expecting the candy stick to be snatched from his mouth and thrown away. Then again, maybe if he let Kazama take it, he would forgive Allen for-
"I'm not gonna take it from you, jeez." The sofa shifted again, and Allen lifted his head to watch as Kazama returned to his desk, sitting safely behind it again. He 'typed' a few notes into his computer - Allen had since seen Isshin doing the same thing and asked about it - before finally looking up again. "So, do you want to talk about what you just said?"
Allen dropped his gaze again, and took the candy out of his mouth for just long enough to say, "Not really," before returning it.
"Of course not, you never want to talk about anything," Kazama said dryly, with no changes in tone from his previous behavior. It was starting to make Allen anxious. "Alright, how about this: what did you mean when you said there was nothing likable about you?"
Ah, yes, that was why Allen had gotten angry: Kazama's insistence on prodding extremely tender wounds. Allen huffed, but, after his outburst, decided he had little choice but to concede.
"Do you know how many people want to help a dirty, resentful little brat with one arm and nothing to offer?" he bit out, too raw to soften it properly. He dropped the stuffed animal between his curled legs, but kept the candy close to his mouth. "No one. No one except Mana. If you want any kindness, from anyone, you need to be clean, polite, and helpful. You need to smile a lot, apologize often, and bite your tongue if necessary. And if you fail, you had best be prepared to go hungry and sleep in the cold." The bitterness crawling out of his chest was unwanted, but familiar.
Kazama tapped his desk contemplatively for a moment, and then said, "I can certainly see how you came to internalize those ideas. Even in modern times, being homeless is a harrowing experience, and I can't imagine it was improved by the lack of social programs in your time. But I will point out: those are rules for dealing with strangers, which is fundamentally different from dealing with people that know you. Do you expect your friends to follow those rules?"
"I'm telling you, it's different!" Allen snapped, frustrated again. His eyes burned, and he wiped them angrily. "I don't know why it doesn't work for me, okay? I know it doesn't work like that for other people, I have eyes. But no one has ever liked me unless I was."
"Perhaps because by the time you started to maintain stable relationships, you had already adopted those mannerisms constantly," Kazama pointed out, deadly calm. "Until then, you had dealt almost exclusively with strangers, hadn't you?"
"I..." Allen wavered, keeping his eyes on the floor, and then broke. "L-look... I'm sorry for... I shouldn't have..." He couldn't think of a way to describe his outburst, and ended up clenching his jaw again, feeling stressed. He had no idea how to even begin covering up what he'd let slip. Fortunately or unfortunately, Kazama cut him off.
"You had better not be trying to apologize for your breakdown. It was probably the best moment you've had today."
"...What?" Allen lifted his head to give Kazama an incredulous look, not sure he was understanding the man right at all. The man arched an eyebrow in return, looking unimpressed.
"You've been taking great pains to avoid saying anything that might invoke judgment," Kazama pointed out, studying Allen with a small frown that made him flinch slightly. "When you lost your temper, you were more frank than you've been at any other point in this process, which tells me that we're moving in the right direction. Now if we could get you to do that without immediately lurching into a panic attack, that would be even better."
Allen stared at him, feeling completely off-balance. "You... liked that?"
Kazama arched an eyebrow at him. "Well, it would be a stretch to say I enjoyed hearing you explain that you are fundamentally unworthy of love, but you willingly exposed a very deep wound, which is the first step toward actually handling some of your problems."
"You still want me to come back?" Allen was beginning to wonder if Urahara's translation bug was malfunctioning.
"Yes, I want you to come back," Kazama said, sounding exasperated. "Whatever you might have been told in the past, you are not actually any kind of monster, nor a broken toy. You are a teenage boy with an immense amount of trauma, and quite frankly, the last thing I am inclined to do right now is to end this relationship. It is clear you need the help, and I did not enter this profession so that I could shoo away the people who need it the most."
Allen's eyes burned, and the next thing he knew, tears were rolling down his cheeks, and he clapped both hands over his mouth and hiccuped.
Kazama sighed softly. "We're out of time for today," he said after a moment. "You can take some time to compose yourself before you go. Over the next week, pay attention to how you behave around your friends, keeping in mind the rules you outlined for me today. I'll write up a list of rules you can use as a framework during these sessions. Perhaps that will help things go smoothly."
Allen nodded jerkily, sniffling, but it still took him almost ten minutes to calm down enough to leave.
Clinician's notes:
It seems that Allen has an even more cynical view of relationships than I initially realized. While he has a strong grasp of the emotional value of close friendships, his internal model is exceedingly mercenary and tailored to avoid giving strangers any reason to refuse to help him. His lack of long-term experience shows clearly here; he has little concept of what to expect from a sturdy, lasting relationship. Despite that, however, he is responsive to feedback on this model, as long as he recognizes it as truthful.
I must also note that our relationship seems to be shifting, which comes with both helpful and unhelpful features. On the one hand, Allen has started to place enough value on our relationship that he takes steps to preserve it, meaning that his people-pleasing tendencies are increasingly directed toward me; he is increasingly sensitive to negative feedback. On the other, that value seems to be the product of burgeoning trust; he has been more open and honest about his thoughts and feelings, even ones he expects to elicit a negative reaction. As long as I continue to accept these expressions without judgment, I believe this is a generally positive trajectory.
However, I came dangerously close to pushing him too far today. Allen is responsive to being pushed toward honesty before he can form a lie, and this has been generally productive thus far. But this method also, understandably, causes him considerable stress, and I will need to balance it more carefully to give him time to process his emotions. Overwhelming him would be a substantial setback and would likely necessitate a complete reorganization of our approach.
It is notable that he lashed out as if his honesty was a punishment for pushing him, and then implied that he expected me to tell him not to come back once I understood how broken he was. This belief that he is uniquely damaged and worthless is a characteristic of complex PTSD, which would not be a surprising diagnosis in this situation. While this outburst was a clear attempt to push me into terminating our therapeutic relationship, it will hopefully clear the way for future progress. With that said, given Allen's struggles with trust, I doubt this will be the last such attempt.