The Hounded Counselor

Being in the helping profession brings with it so many travails that I have started feeling that unless you have the heart of a soldier, you will be sapped of all energy and you would yourself end up as a client in need of counseling!

Being a practicing counselor, I have come across people with very many kinds of problems: those with issues that I have sometimes wondered whether would qualify to be labeled at all as problems, and also those where the problem is so serious that it calls for medical intervention. But suggesting medication is easier said than done. Clients refuse to accept the fact that their problems are pathological, and no amount of basic assessments showing them the scores which are statistically proven to be a cause for concern are good enough for them to seek chemical intervention. Believe me, this denial is more difficult to treat than the actual problem! 

I was approached by a socially prominent elderly gentleman who was quite pushy when it came to meeting me as soon as possible, and I should have had my alarm bells ringing right then! But handling the call more as a counselor than as a lay person being coerced, I agreed to see him after adjusting my appointment diary. The first appointment was for an intake session, and it was followed by a couple more sessions. Due to some personal reasons, I was unable to follow up with more sessions immediately as he demanded, and I explained to him about the required intervals, and I agreed to take on more sessions with him the following week. 

And that is how it all began. The client insisted I take on continuous sessions, and refused to listen to any logical explanations either about my unavailability or the necessity of such sessions. Nothing I said seemed to get through to him, and the messages he sent on my phone started getting nasty. I bore it for as long as I could; and then I just stopped responding when he demanded that I refund the fee for the sessions taken! Though I knew I was dealing with a client who had pathology and hence I was giving him a long rope, I realized that the time had come for me to stop being the tolerant counselor and accept that I had now become a victim of harassment! 

It got better when I stopped responding to his messages, but there was only a lull before it started again, now in the form of emails. I am still handling the issue, in the best way I can, without resorting to measures that may lead it to becoming ugly. I know I only need to mention it to a few people in his social circle, armed as I am with his diagnosis, for people to look down on him. But professional ethics do not allow me to do that. However, I am not sure how long it will take for my basic survival instincts to overtake my dedication to my profession!