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Yes, I wanted to help people live fuller lives, and counseling seemed like the ideal way to do it. But I found that the reality was much different, at least with the clients I saw. Most people walked through my door wanting a better life and saying they were ready to change. However, usually, they wanted the world around them to change, and never saw the role they played in their own unhappiness no matter how hard I tried to point it out. Many people dropped out of counseling when I pushed them to truly understand themselves and the changes they’d need to make.
I understood it. It could be unpleasant to learn the truth about ourselves, and extremely difficult to change old habits and ways of thinking. The lack of real impact I felt I had on my clients’ lives made me question if I was in the right profession, much less working with the right people. Maybe I needed to work in a non-profit or specialize in something other than first world neurosis.
I’d spent some time working in the Veteran Administration and with non-profits with people suffering from PTSD. It was heart-breaking to see people so destroyed and broken down by war and other trauma. I found myself emotionally worn-down working with them, which was why I made a change. But at least with the veterans, I felt like I’d made a difference.
But, for now, I was in my own office, talking to bored wives who wished their husbands would take them on vacation more often, and overworked executives who wondered why their wives were cheating on them.
My next client was one of the main men of Raven Industries, Chase Raven. He was newly married and had a child on the way. Rumors were he’d mellowed some since getting married, so I couldn’t imagine why he’d need my help. Although, I’d also heard that his wife had been kidnapped, so maybe he was seeking advice on how to help her if she was still suffering effects from her ordeal. PTSD wasn’t something only soldiers struggled with. Any traumatic event could cause it.
I left my office on the fifth floor and took the elevator up to the top, to the sixtieth floor where all the executives were. I was a confident woman, but I’d never met a billionaire before, so admittedly, I was a little nervous. They’re all just people, I reminded myself.
I let the secretary know I was there.
“Yes, he’s expecting you,” she said as she stood and took me to his office. “Mr. Raven, Ms. Reynolds is here.”
“Show her in,” I heard him say.
She smiled at me and used her hand to gesture for me to go in. I entered the office as Mr. Raven stood from behind his desk. He walked around it to greet me.
He was more imposing in person than in the pictures I’d seen on the news and online.
“I’m Chase Raven. Thank you for meeting with me up here.”
“Is everything alright? I paid my office rent.” I realized that a man like Chase Raven probably didn’t need counseling from me, and instead, perhaps there was a problem with my office lease.
“This isn’t about your office. It is acceptable though, right? Is there anything you need?”
I shook my head. “No, it’s fine.”
He motioned for me to sit on his couch. “Can I get you something to drink? Water? Soda?”
“I’m fine, thank you,” I said as I sat.
He poured himself some water and then sat in a chair across from me. “I wanted to talk to you about helping my brother.”
“Oh?”
“I don’t know how much you know about the Raven family, but my brother, Hunter is a vet who served in Iraq. He’s a decorated soldier.” Chase spoke with pride about his brother, which wasn’t what I’d expected. Word on the street was the Raven brothers didn’t much like each other. “He was discharged after an incident, and he’s never been the same. Over the last few months, he’s been worse. He’s never been violent, but the anger is increasing.”
“Does he feel he’s having trouble?” I asked.
Chase shook his head. “I have no idea what he’s thinking. I just know that something is off.”
“Does he abuse drugs or alcohol?”
“Not that I’m aware of. His coping mechanism seems to be women.”
That was a new one for me. “Women?”
“He picks up women at clubs, sleeps with them, and then he’s on to the next. I’m hoping that you can help him. But our real concern is his angry outbursts.”
“Mr. Raven, what you’re describing isn’t unusual for someone with PTSD, but generally it’s better if I meet the person and make my own assessment. Is he here?”
He blew out a breath. “He’s doesn’t know I’m talking to you.”
Uh-oh.
“He knows that I’m at my limit with his outbursts, but not specifically that I’m seeking help for him.”
