"Helen!" The psychiatrist's voice was imperative. "You must calm down. Now remember everything we discussed in my office last Thursday."

"I do remember!" The pretty blonde thirty-five year old ran her fingers nervously through her hair. "But it doesn't do me any good remembering at the time. I'm telling you, Stan. I just don't know what I'm going to do! I feel like killing Adam. Either killing him or killing myself!"

"Now, that wouldn't solve much would it?" Stan's voice was calm now, more like the voice he used in the office with his patients unless some other tone was called for.

"It would solve everything!" Helen was sitting in the bedroom of the apartment looking toward the big mirror that hung over the dresser. In it she could see herself, still pretty save for the expression of anxiety on her face. Her disheveled blonde curls hung to her shoulders which were naked except for the thin strand of the straps of her gown. The distressed wife hadn't even gotten dressed that day, and it was nearing dusk now. Her own words seemed to echo in her head as she stared at her reflection across the room. Then her attention went back to her analyst. He'd been talking for some time, she realized, and she didn't have the faintest idea of what he'd been saying. She was pleased to note, however, that she had brought out that "concerned" tone in his voice. He always sounded extra careful when she got to talking about killing herself. That would teach him, she thought. If I really did it. That would teach Adam, too!

"Helen, you've got to understand that you must help yourself. In this way, you'll be helping Adam, too. You see, you can't change him before you change yourself. He is responding to the old person in you, not the new woman you wish to be."