All language subtitles for In Treatment (2008) - S02E30 - Gina Week Six (1080p HMAX WEB-DL x265 Silence)

Yes, my name is Paul Weston.
I've been on hold.

- How can I help you, sir?
- I'm the executor

of my father's estate and I wanted to...

Can you hold on
while I pull up the account?

Sure, okay, I'll hold.

Thank you for holding.
You call is very important to us

and your estimated wait time...

- Claim services.
- Hello.

- Yes, can I help you?
- This is Paul Weston.

And my father had
a life insurance policy with you and...

- Hold on while I get an agent.
- Okay, I'll hold.

Hello. Bank of New Trust.
How can I help you?

My name is Paul Weston.

- Yes, Mr. Weston, how can I help you?
- My father just passed away.

He had two accounts with you.

Can I have your father's
security code?

No, I don't know his security codes.

- I'm gonna have to transfer you.
- No, but just don't put me on hold.

- Hold one second.
- Don't put me on hold, please.

- Just a quick second.
- Please don't...

Goddammit!

Do you wanna get that?

In Treatment, S02E30
Gina: Week Six

I'm sorry about the phone business.

I'm trying to get
my father's estate settled

and I can't even get anybody
to talk to me. All I get is

"Can you hold? Please, hold.
Let me put you on hold."

- That's so irritating.
- If I believed the operators

were actually helping somebody,
I would wait.

Sometimes I think the whole country
is "on hold."

Nobody is being helped.

They don't even call it "help"
any more.

They call it "customer support."

That's 'cause
all they really do is say,

"I'm sorry you have a problem.
That's too bad."

Well, you know what?
I don't want support. I want your help.

So I hang up.

Is there something I can help you with?

Unless you want to proofread
a letter I wrote.

Sure.

What kind of letter?

Remember last week I left here
and I went to meet with Alex's father?

Yeah, how did that go?

Disorienting.

He offered to accept settlement money
from the insurance company

and drop his lawsuit against me...

- Well, that's great.
- ... in exchange

for a letter from me admitting

my guilt in Alex's death.

You wrote the letter?

What would he do with this letter?

He gave me his word
he wouldn't do anything with it.

- Paul!
- I know. You're right.

Once he has it, technically,
he can do anything he wants with it.

Send it to the ethics board
or post it online.

That would be the end of your career.

- What did your lawyer say?
- He says the letter

will put an end to the lawsuit
and that my insurance

will cover the whole settlement.
I won't end up owing a thing.

What happens if you don't send it?

They have a preliminary hearing
next week. The judge...

He could just throw
the whole case out.

But if he doesn't,
it might go to trial with a jury,

in which case I will lose big time.

- How do you know that?
- The lawyer says that's what juries do.

He says everybody hates therapists.

They do?

According to this guy,
therapy is bullshit.

He says people go into treatment

hoping that the therapist
is gonna fix them.

But that therapists either
don't solve people's problems

- or they make them worse.
- And this man is representing you?

He fights cases like this every week.
He knows how they go.

And he's worried
that the jury is gonna see me

as a stand-in for all the bad therapists
in the world,

and award Alex's father
the entire $20 million.

If this lawyer knew
what he was doing,

he'd get the jury to see
what a good therapist you are.

Excuse me for a second, I'm just curious.

What would you say if you were on trial
and the lawyer asked you,

"What percentage of your patients
do you think you've really helped?"

- What are you asking?
- Would you say, on average,

that the people you've treated
have gotten a little better,

a lot better,
or they've stayed about the same?

You're someone I treat.

Are you asking me
if I'll help you get better?

Fine, don't answer the question.
This isn't about you anyway.

This is about me.

The way I feel about it
is I'm not helping anybody.

I'm going to mail this letter

and I'm gonna quit being a therapist
and find something better to do,

- something useful.
- You know you help people.

You know what I do? Most days,
I sit there and I listen

for 45 minutes.
Then my patients go out the door

and do
whatever they were gonna do anyway.

Paul, you don't just listen.
You make observations.

You ask questions.
You make interpretations.

You encourage people to look
at the patterns of their behavior.

That may be what I do,
but it's not what people want.

And what do they want?

They want to be loved,

even by me. They want a child,
or they want to be my child.

They want a parent who loves them.

They want attention,
they want affection. They want hope,

they want pills, and they want sex.

It's a good list.

But I don't give them those things.

My patient Mia, the lawyer,

do you know what she wants?

She wants me to hold her,
to comfort her.

But what she really needs
is a good husband and a family.

And I know
that I cannot give her those things.

All I can do is show her she pushes away
the very people who could help her

and that she pulls
on the people who won't.

But that only leaves her feeling
more lonely and unloved.

By the time she left on Monday,
by the time she left my office,

she felt doomed,

rejected by her family
and the world.

And I had absolutely
nothing to say to her.

So you're worried
she won't come back?

Why should she come back, really?

I am of no use to her whatsoever.

All this big wisdom
that I'm supposed to be giving her.

This isn't going to make her happy.

Is that what you want to do,
make people happy?

Absolutely,
I want to make people happy.

What do you want to do,
fuck them up even more?

You know what I'm gonna do?
I'm gonna mail this letter

and I'm gonna let them
take my license,

and I'm gonna become a life coach.

A life coach?

- What do they do?
- You know what a life coach is.

They give advice.

It's not...

Look, people don't have families
anymore that they can talk to,

and friends are quickly going
the way of families.

So if you were Mia's life coach,

- what would you tell her to do?
- I would tell her to quit her job.

I would tell her to grow her hair,

I would tell her to move somewhere
where she's outside in the sunshine,

like Napa Valley.
I would tell her to take up biking,

not wear heels for a year.
And I'd tell her, "Get a dog."

Do you think
that she would take your advice?

She just wants me to give her love

and support.

But if she were capable
of receiving love and support,

she wouldn't be coming to you for them.

That's her real problem.

And until it's treated, she won't
be able to take anyone's advice.

And that's why she needs therapy.

Actually,
I think if my first advice worked,

she might try some other new idea.

If my advice didn't work out,

she'd go in another direction.
I don't see what the harm is.

Would you want the responsibility
for making her decisions for her?

I think I'd be fine with that.

You see,
that's your problem right there.

You're scared of taking responsibility
for your patients' lives.

You don't actually want
to get involved with them.

I do.

So you still cling to this dogma

of letting them make their own decisions.

But that, in my opinion, that's not
professionalism. That's cowardice.

You know, it's not dogma.

It's a basic tenet of our profession.

If you take action
in your patients' lives,

you cause them
to become dependent on you.

You cripple them.

Back on the high moral ground again,
as usual.

But you've got it wrong, Gina.

My problem isn't
that I can't obey the rules.

My problem is that, unlike you,
I actually give a shit

- about my patients.
- You think I don't care about you?

You don't let yourself
care about anybody.

You're too afraid to.
You sit in that goddamn chair,

and your patients are falling apart
in front of you,

but instead of reaching out to help,

you study them as if they were
pieces of a puzzle.

Well, I let you down.

And you're enraged at me.

I was your teacher. I was your mentor.

I was supposed to give you

the wisdom that would protect you
from this sort of pain.

The pain you're going through now.

And I didn't.

And so you're reacting by telling me
that I'm not feeling your pain,

and that my profession is useless.

We both know that you don't believe
a word of that bullshit.

If anything,
you think that I've disappointed you.

You keep telling me I'm a good person.
"You're a great therapist, Paul."

But we both know how little respect
you really have for me.

You pretend to be neutral,
but you have done nothing but judge me

since the minute
I came back into therapy.

So you think I've been judging you
all this time?

For fuck's sake,
stop mirroring what I say.

Would you stop hiding
behind the cloak,

drop the fucking catlike smile,
the bullshit Buddha pose of yours,

and just tell me for once
what you really think?

What do I really think?

I really think that you're acting
like an asshole.

I really think that you're a therapist
who has remarkably

little insight into your own behavior.

You are so self-absorbed.

You are so entitled.

You come in here and you spout
the same old bullshit!

"I want to cross the boundaries

"because I care so much!"

And I have to sit here and listen.

And then you have the gall
to get mad at me

for not losing my temper!

Well, at least I finally know.

You know nothing.

That's right. I'm a self-absorbed
asshole and you're furious at me.

I am furious at you.

Let me ask you...

- How did saying that make you feel?
- It felt good.

But maybe
that's exactly what you wanted.

And what did I want, Gina?
You tell me.

You got me to play the role you relish.

You got me to be the punishing,
rejecting parent,

the failed authority figure
that you can rail against.

- Why would I want that?
- Because it's familiar.

It confirms your worldview.

You get to be the innocent victim

doing your best. And I'm just like
everyone else. I'm out to fuck you over.

So you call me an asshole,
and not only is it my fault,

it's actually what I wanted.

You tell me, how do you feel?

- Give me a fucking break.
- I bet you feel good.

Let's face it, Paul.

- You'd always rather yell than think.
- What don't I want to think about?

Well... you're on a tear here.

You're tortured by what you see
as your failures with your parents,

with your patients, with your father.

So you're destroying
all your careful work,

- and mine.
- Careful work?

You think I'm unprofessional.
You think I've got no boundaries.

You've always thought that.

Have I?

Have I always thought that?

Then why do you think
I've stuck by you all these years,

even when you've been
a complete pain in the ass?

The truth is...

despite everything, I really do think
you're a good therapist.

You tell me you're no help
to your patients,

but when you describe them,

it's clear to me
how carefully you listen.

You have a great ear.

You have a great sense of empathy.

Then why am I failing them?

It's not about you, Paul.

You know, they're human beings.

They're struggling
with profound problems.

If only you could find courage

to sit with the fact
that what we do is hard,

and sometimes,
it makes you feel like an idiot.

It's a humbling profession.

And if you lack anything
as a therapist, it's humility.

Somehow you have to learn to tolerate
the fact that we don't save people.

We can't.

Walter tried to kill himself.

Oh my God!

Paul, why didn't you tell me this?

When did this happen?

About 10 days ago.

You didn't even mention it last week.

I felt there was enough
to talk about with...

my father.

I mean, what would I have done
if he had succeeded?

You would have blamed yourself,
just like you did with Alex.

But I am responsible for what happened.

Paul, in two weeks,

you've lost your father...

you're wracked with guilt
because you feel you neglected him...

and now this.

The sessions with him are...

The first one was in the hospital.

You can imagine that's...

that's the last place
I want to be right now.

I was sitting with him, worrying
that if I just said the wrong thing...

just one wrong thing...

and his daughter
is outside in the corridor, waiting.

She's just a little bit older than Rosie.

And she's been holding
that family together...

the mother and the father,
in a way that...

just in the way that...

... you tried to save your mother?

Yeah.

And she's staring at me with those eyes
that would break your heart.

She's just starting to live her life

and all I wanna say to her is,
"Get out, run away."

But I can't do that, because if she goes,

so does Walter.

I sat with him for hours

trying to tell him that his life
can still have meaning,

that even though
he's overwhelmed with guilt

and loss and shame,
he has to push on,

that he doesn't know what life
might have in store for him,

what his third act could be.

Except he knows, he knows damn well

what his third act is going to be...

a long, steady decline,

just like my father's.

So...

maybe he's right,

to try for a millionaire's death,
as he calls it,

to take control for himself

on his terms,
instead of letting the universe

continue to...

torture him.

Do you really believe that?

I can see how he got there,

how somebody would just want
to close their eyes

and not wake up.

Have you been thinking you might like
to go to sleep yourself?

But I haven't lost everything
I ever wanted.

- If I did...
- If you did?

- I'm not going to kill myself, Gina.
- Tell me why not.

For fuck's sake...

Paul, you know what I'm asking you.

- You're vulnerable here.
- You don't have to worry, Gina.

I have children.

I remember, you know,
after my mother died,

I was standing above her grave
and I promised myself

that I would never ever do that

to one of my kids.

And then Ian was born,
and then Rosie and Max.

I made the same promise to myself
over and over and over again.

And I felt this rush

of warmth

through my body.
"I am good,

"I am strong."

Sometimes I feel
like I'm this great tree,

giant, powerful,

and they're gonna live their whole lives
beneath my shade.

And then sometimes I feel...

I feel like all my leaves
have just fallen away...

And I can't do anything for them...

except...

block the view.

- They still need you.
- I don't know about that.

They do.

You still need your mother, don't you?

Can you imagine?

She'd be 80 by now.

She'd have got to see
her grandkids grow up.

Do you think
that would have made her happier?

- Can I ask you something, Gina?
- Sure.

Have you ever thought about...

suicide?

Yes.

When David was dying?

No, not when David was dying.

But afterwards,

when you were grieving?

He was a young man...

he was so young when he got cancer

and his life was stolen from him.

You watch someone die,
someone who wants to live and...

I'm sorry I didn't make it
to David's funeral.

Sorry I wasn't there for you.

Thank you.

And what about your patient with cancer?
How's she doing?

She gets the result of the blood test
this week.

How is she doing emotionally?

- She's kind of furious at me.
- Why?

It's a long story.

She was in the hospital.
She was really really sick,

but she hadn't told her mother.

So I thought
that her mother deserved to know.

Of course she did. You were right.

Someday, April will thank you.

Maybe.

Listen, Gina,

I'm exhausted.

I don't want to talk anymore.

I think I'll go get

a coffee or something
before I pick up the kids.

- Are you all right? I'll go with you.
- No, it's okay, I'm fine.

I'm just tired, that's all.

- I forgot my letter.
- I'll keep this,

I'll keep this,

you know, for you. And then

you take this week, you think about it.

And if you want it back,
if you wanna send it,

I'll give it to you.

Take a week to do what?

To see your patients.

That's what I've been saying,

- I don't want to see my patients.
- See your patients, Paul.

Act as if you believe you're helping.