Mr. Kim, a Korean American in his 40?, started to talk quietly, slightly tilting his head downward to avoid direct eye contact with me unless he looked up. During the previous session, I had suggested to him to just sit still for 10 minutes whenever he gets anxious and to try and think of nothing in particular.

"Well, I tried not think about anything, but what came to my mind was some memories of my childhood," Mr. Kim said, looking somewhat serious.

"What are the memories?" I asked.

For the last two months, Mr. Kim had talked about feeling insecure, being "super sensitive" to what people say, and having suspicion of what his friends might say about him behind his back. These feelings had worsened for about a year, resulting in a serious deterioration of personal relationships.

He was self-punitive about his thoughts, feeling terribly guilty. He suffered. He was "almost forced" to come for treatment because his wife had become increasingly irritated with his problems. She was not only being emotionally drained, but also could not sleep when her husband suffered from insomnia.

Mr. Kim described himself as "a quiet and cooperative person who would not talk anything bad about others." At the beginning, he only spoke when spoken to, and with great hesitation at that. Today, he seemed more eager to tell me something.

"It was at a market place; I was holding my mom? hand," he began.

"I think I was happy because there was only me. My older brother was not there. I remember that she even bought lunch for us, so we ate together. It was really a fun day for me although she shopped for my brother? thing."

"You mean she didn? buy anything for you?" I asked.

"I never had any new clothes," he answered with a flat expression. My clothes were all used first by my brother. Nothing I had was new. It was always used by brother. I understand why my mother did that."

"Were you ever upset about that?" I asked.

"I was never upset about it," he said. "I knew my mother could not afford to do any differently at that time. She struggled tremendously to raise two kids alone after my father died. That was quite okay."

"And, another thing I remembered was the school ground. Somehow, my brother scolded me, and then, beat me in front of many friends because I embarrassed him. I really didn? have any idea what that was about. Well, he was often like an angry tiger. When he got angry, he used to dump it on me, hitting me over nothing. I never knew why he did that. But I remember, I was his target for a long time while I was growing up."

"Did that make you angry?" I asked him again.

"Yeah, I guess I was. Oh, no, I don? get angry, it was really okay. I probably deserved that." Mr. Kim immediately took back his words. He then talked about a saying his older brother usually used, when he was abusive "I am doing you a favor." He also mentioned his older brother? righteous attitude.

"What about your mother? Didn? she protect you?" I was more puzzled.

"She agreed with my brother over everything," he said. "He was her eldest son. She didn? stop his violent behavior."

"Do you have any idea why these memories visit you while you tried not to think about anything? Are they telling you something?" I asked him quietly, watching his eyes getting red and wet.

Although Mr. Kim mentioned he had no problems in his childhood at the beginning, progressively he acknowledged that his low self-esteem and deep-rooted anger stemmed from the unfair treatment he received from his mother and brother. This had interfered with his work and interpersonal relationships.

"Denial" is a commonly used defense when a person experiences emotional dissonance. It is much easier to deny and cover up what? being unfairly done than take a risk and confront the real issue. Consciously, Mr. Kim rationalizes his internal disagreement by saying, "everything was okay," or "I understood them," as if the abuses he experienced were non-existent.

Mr. Kim says what his mother did to him was okay. But, his tears today tell me quite the opposite.

Why is he constantly seeking approval from others, feeling incompetent, being suspicious, and very sensitive to what others have said about him?

More often, children feel that they were not treated fairly although their parents disagree. Because youngsters are self-centered; their world revolve around them. This limits their full understanding of certain incidents.

In the Korean home, the eldest son usually receives special attention because he is traditionally considered the career of the family lineage

Research shows that a majority of Korean parents (95% of respondents of the research) have strong aspirations for their sons education. And a majority of Korean parents wanted "their eldest sons to have white-collar occupations", researchers say (Kim, Choi, & Park).

Perhaps unintentionally, Korean parents often show less favorable attitude to the rest of their children.

In Mr. Kim? case, he felt insignificant in his brother? presence because his mother gave him no support. Even today, he says that he feels "shrunken" when facing his successful brother.

Children growing up with clearly defined roles of dominance and high esteem develop healthy interpersonal relationships and adapt to new situations. In contrast, those emotionally neglected by their mothers and are not given responsibilities early on have more difficult interpersonal relationships.

For Mr. Kim, his "second child role" became a handicap that diverted him from proper development and attaining assertiveness. It appears that he was trapped in denial and avoiding unpleasant thoughts.

Finally, in his mid-forties, he has come to grips with the long-standing conflict. He can no longer deny what happened in his childhood. Memories are flooding into his consciousness and propelling him to face them.

Dr. Beatrice Sool Choi is a clinical psychologist at the Richmond Area Multi Services (RAMS) in San Francisco. She can be reached at (415) 668-5955 ex. 39
or RAMS
3626 Balboa Street, San Francisco, CA 94121.