She came into my office a decade ago. She was lifted by somebody and dropped on my couch 40 minutes after the session was supposed to begin. She was too drunk to make it to her appointment on time.
In her mid-thirties, she was the spoiled daughter of a mogul. She had never had to work for anything. She was the sister of a brilliant brother. She was the unpopular child. She was the failing student. She was the drug addict.
She felt invisible to her family.
She had many different compulsive disorders. She was my first clutterer. She horded anything she could get her hands on, mostly clothes.
