Unfortunately, he was never able to look inside to understand himself and his behavior. He was too busy playing the victim and blaming everyone else for his unhappiness. Fortunately, he had the money and sense to send me to therapy.
When I was in psychoanalysis for 2 1/2 years, I took a deep, long look inside myself and didn’t like what I saw. My father stopped paying because I wasn’t changing to his liking, so terminating therapy abruptly was like having surgery and then leaving the operating room before being sewn back up. It was then that I began the real therapy on my own — changing; the most difficult part of all.