ABSTRACT
This chapter tells a passionate story of therapy, courage and death. Eros and Thanatos merged when José killed his mother with his bare hands. Years later, I was his first female therapist and the second woman to whom he yearned to connect, this time desperately trying to disentangle obsession from care and respect. The first woman did not end up well and we both knew it. We both feared our emerging therapeutic and human connection. While José battled his urge to sabotage it with sexually aggressive, psychotic acts, I had to let go of my own splitting defense to truly sit with a murderer, acknowledge the humanity that united us, and embrace my fear of it. As we walked alone in the semi-deserted grounds of the facility, outside the safety of a locked ward, our processes became intertwined. It took the joined strength of our two passionate souls to withstand constantly redefining the boundaries of this complex therapeutic relationship. Together, we eventually came to believe that indeed José was courageous enough to control his madness and I courageous enough to contain our shared fear of being annihilated by it.
