In this extract from new book Rethink the Couch, therapist Allison Heiliczer introduces her workaholic client Vanessa, the challenges she faces and how a combination of therapy and action helps
According to Kisi’s Global Work-Life Balance Index, the world’s top five overworked cities in 2021 were Hong Kong, Singapore, Bangkok, Buenos Aires, and Seoul, while Tokyo and Kuala Lumpur also made the top ten. In this extract from Rethink the Couch, Allison Heiliczer, who has worked as a therapist in Hong Kong and Singapore, brings readers into her therapy room where we meet female client Vanessa who shares her workaholic tendencies and the challenges they have presented, before Heiliczer demonstrates how a combination of therapy and action helps her to address them.
‘I must have been the only person in history to end up more stressed in the Maldives than I was at work,’ Vanessa shared.
Vanessa was a high-powered partner at a private equity firm based in Hong Kong. She was thirty-four, Taiwanese, with shoulder-length black hair and caramel highlights that framed her lovely brown eyes and baby fat in her cheeks. Every step into my therapy room was measured, and her tailored navy tweed blazer and trousers exuded power. She spoke with warmth and trust but also with an edge of aggression and obsessiveness about her career.
The men and women in her office were terrified of her. ‘They listen to my every word and do my bidding,’ she said, sounding as if she deeply relished the control she wielded over colleagues. ‘I’ve made it clear from the beginning I don’t take crap, and I don’t celebrate mediocrity. I expect everyone working for me to perform well. I don’t expect everyone to love the work as much as I do, but I do expect them to work hard. There’s some work-related stuff I want to discuss eventually. However, I also need help to decide whether to freeze my eggs and to address something else.’
Once she had finished, she took two deep breaths.
It’s always been me against all the men who dominate my field, so I’ve had to be that “strong woman”. But when I take a second to think of myself outside of work, I feel so lonely . . . and pathetic for feeling so lonely.
I could sense work was her comfort zone. We were diving into confronting waters. When this happens with clients, it’s often a change of tone, choice of words or body language I notice first. With Vanessa, the deep breaths tipped me off. I imagined her giving immaculate presentations in front of investors, not skipping a beat, just as in the room with me discussing work. It all seemed together, organized and clear.
‘It’s always been me against all the men who dominate my field, so I’ve had to be that “strong woman”. But when I take a second to think of myself outside of work, I feel so lonely . . . and pathetic for feeling so lonely.’ I watched her exhale and could see the relief in her body. ‘I can’t believe I said that aloud,’ she said.
‘I imagine you’ve been holding those feelings in for a long time? What’s it like to say it aloud?’ I asked.
She took some deep breaths. ‘You know what it is with saying it aloud? I have said it so many times to myself. It really hit me the hardest in the Maldives earlier this year. I had been so stressed from work, just utterly at my wit’s end with the late nights, late calls, and deadlines so I took a week off to recharge—unheard of for me. Anyway, I was having dinner at the most mind-blowing, gorgeous hotel. I looked around, and I was surrounded by couples gazing into each other’s eyes, holding hands, kissing, flowers on the table, the whole thing. I had a terrible pit in my stomach. I went back to my room and started reading a book to distract myself. And I just couldn’t. I started crying so intensely.’
Tears streamed down her face as she recalled the scene.
I put my hand over my heart and responded, ‘I can see why you would have cried so intensely and why the tears are filling your eyes right now. It seems like those tears are messengers—telling you very clearly what you want in your life.’
‘Yes and no. There’s definitely a part of me that wants a husband,’ Vanessa responded.
‘Which part of you doesn’t want that?’ I asked.
People often break their feelings, desires, and dreams into parts—a part of me wants this, a part of me doesn’t. It often takes a lot of dialogue and negotiation amongst these parts to get to a decision. Even so, being an adult can sometimes mean playing a card that feels like an emotional gamble.
‘It’s the feminist in me that’s saying I shouldn’t want that. That I’m financially independent. That it’s wrong to want this. That wanting a husband makes me weak. That a man won’t be additive. Oh, and also, I’m aware that I might lose my edge at work if I have a partner as I wouldn’t be able to work as much,’ she said, quite convincingly.
I held onto that last comment. This moment was about making her feel heard and giving space to all the parts she was describing.
I asked her, ‘Have you ever met a man at your firm or another who is a partner and either wants or has a life partner and apologizes for that?’
She half-smiled, laughed and said, ‘No. Never.’