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Notes on Some Transferencial Effects of the Holocaust: Unmentalized Experience and Coincidence of Vulnerability in the Therapeutic Couple


Judith Mitrani, Ph.D.
(originally presented at a Meeting on the Transgenerational Effects of the Holocaust at Bar Ilan University, Tel-Aviv, Israel on October 25th, 1999.)


How can I fill the time with notes that are worthy of the preceding silence?
Arvo Pârt 

A massive body of literature on the effects of the Holocaust upon children of survivors reflects the immensity of the problem psychoanalysts face in the treatment of those so effected (e.g., Perel Wilgowicz [1999] wrote about what she calls the "vampiric complex" in the daughter of one survivor). Our struggle to apprehend the current observable effects of this human catastrophe, half a century old, is fueled by our appreciation of the fact that future generations, even those as yet unborn, are at risk if we fail in our attempts to broaden our understanding.

Recently I was commissioned to write a paper to present at a conference at Bar-Ilan University in Israel on the topic of autistic encapsulation (Tustin, 1992) as it relates to the transgenerational effects of the Holocaust. I took on the commission because I believed that there might well be some connection between Tustin's model of autistic phenomena, derived from her work with these once thought to be atypical psychotic children and certain pathological constellations in the children of Holocaust survivors.

However, when I sat down to write the paper, I was struck with the weight of the task at hand. I wondered: how might I -- an assimilated Jew, a second generation American, never directly touched by that event -- do justice to such an assignment? I felt a bit like the contemporary Estonian composer Arvo Pârt may have felt when he asked himself, "How can I fill the time with notes that are worthy of the preceding silence?"

Then I thought of one patient -- Miriam -- the daughter of holocaust survivors, married with children of her own, who was referred to me some time ago for analysis. She was then embroiled in an ugly conflict with another family with whom she had once been very close. Had she lived, decades ago, in a little village in Poland or perhaps Russia, this conflict might have been settled by the local Rabbi. However, as a present day resident of an American city, she had instead been arrested and charged with stalking, and was facing prosecution!

Bound by a restraining order from the court, persecuted by the police, followed by private investigators, severely constricted in her activities and nearly a prisoner in her own home, Miriam was quite literally tearing her hair out of her head. She was suffering from trichotillomania, sleep and eating disturbances, depression, and severe and intractable anxiety. On first meeting, I grew curious to learn what a 'nice Jewish girl' like Miriam had been thinking of when she had committed the acts of which she was being accused. Or more to the point, what had she been unable to think and thus was enacting ?

Beginning with and for some time after the initial consultation, Miriam breathlessly filled each hour -- and my mind -- with seamless stories of the events preceding each and every meeting. She left me no room for thinking or feeling or even being with her in any meaningful way. To complicate matters, her cellular phones (not one, but two) rang incessantly in each session, intruding into our time together, and although she seemed unaffected by these interruptions in our connection, I had great difficulty grasping who I was in the transference, unable to find the mental space in which to capture my experience of her.

On many occasions she was late or missed an hour. Each time, she seemed most concerned with how I felt about her absence and would always be preoccupied with reassuring me that she would "pay for the missed hours." Such reassurances were of a quality and frequency that I had not encountered with other patients.

At first, I considered that Miriam might be bestowing upon me her own need for reassurance and her feelings about the missing time and attention. However, I also wondered if this might be more than just a defense against dependency: perhaps the expression of a sense of duty toward the parents, so well documented in the literature on the descendants of Holocaust survivors.

Finally, I marshaled the courage to say that I thought she was introducing me to a baby-Miriam who felt obligated to minister to my needs ahead of her own: one who feared that I would be resentful of her if she failed in this duty. Miriam seemed relieved by this conjecture on my part and the urgency of these apologies soon subsided. Nonetheless, most often when Miriam left the room at the end of the hour, I felt worthless, having been largely unable to fulfill my function as an analyst. I despaired over not being able to make contact with my patient in the hour, although I was certain that in some way she had succeeded in making contact with me. I often asked myself why had I been chosen for this particular patient? I had no reputation for treating children of Holocaust survivors.

During one session, Miriam once again went about filling the silence to capacity with the bare facts of her present day-to-day existence. At one point, she paused, leaving me a tiny moment during which I managed somehow to find some presence of mind. It seemed an opportunity to say that I believed that she was letting me know something about a very little-she with no place to be, shut out, totally lost and unable to identify herself. Perhaps if I could find a home for her in my mind, she might be better able to locate and define her Self.

In response to this comment, Miriam began to weep softly and said that she was so very glad to be able to talk to me. However, at the same time she was terribly afraid to delve into her childhood experiences, although she knew she must if she were to get a grip on her life. It seemed to her that to speak of how she felt about her family -- especially Mother and Father -- would constitute a betrayal of their trust. She owed them so much. The business with the police had been so upsetting to them, she felt very bad about it all. She regretted that they had to be involved and explained that they were always asking what she spoke about in her sessions with me, frowning upon the very notion of any psychotherapy based upon revealing details of her "private life."

I said that I thought she was telling me of her sense that she was in the grip of something we knew little about, so much so that she had done things that were incomprehensible to her. Although she wanted to "speak her mind" and felt this might lead the way to some understanding of the roots of her problem, she was compelled -- while so gripped -- to keep silent, even though she had seemed to find other ways of communicating with me.

In the session to follow -- the last of the week -- Miriam was uncustomarily silent. While initially encouraged by this shift away from unrelenting chatter, I soon grew fearful, needing some word from my patient in which to ground my interventions. I was aware that I was hungry as my stomach growled in protest. After a few minutes passed, Miriam mentioned the earthquake, one too far away to be felt but reported on the news that morning. She feared another 'big one' was coming soon. She then referred to her "weight problem." An important family affair was coming up soon, and Mother kept "hocking" her about fitting into a dress that was too small for her to wear. She would have to starve to fit into it by the appointed deadline. She reluctantly confided that Mother was always criticizing her for something she could do nothing about.

I acknowledged that she was clearly annoyed by this situation with Mother, and wondered aloud if she might also be letting me know how I seemed to be insisting that she squeeze herself into a too-small space -- like the too-small dress -- which deprived her of the time she needed with me and left her feeling starved. Perhaps -- to add insult to injury -- I was felt to be holding her responsible for the weekend wait, something she really had no control over. I was all but surprised when she vigorously admitted that she had indeed felt this week to be too short, but had been too embarrassed to complain about it. She did not want to seem as if she were trying to hog my time.

Now blushing, she openly expressed curiosity about what I did over the weekend, if I celebrated the Sabbath. She realized that she knew nothing about me. I might not even be Jewish, my name sounded Italian. She hated that I did not tell her about myself. How could she dare to trust me, not knowing the facts. Regardless, I would surely influence her future. It just wasn't fair, and yet she could do nothing about it.

It was clear that, in the immediate transference, Miriam was experiencing me as having little regard for her feelings in this matter; she felt that I only cared for myself, my privacy -- not just over the weekend, but even when we were together -- and this left her on shaky ground, helpless and belittled, and preoccupied with the long wait. When I told her as much, Miriam gradually began to relax. Her pressured speech, which had held off feeling and thought, subsided as did others of her symptoms. Additionally, gathering the transference in this way seemed to lead to an increase in Miriam's openness and a decrease in the acting-out behaviors that had resulted in her legal entanglements.

Little by little I came to learn that Miriam's mother and father had never spoken to their daughter about what had happened to them during the Holocaust. Instead, the silent impact of these experiences seemed to be unconsciously passed on to Miriam. Her current predicament appeared uncannily to parallel both Father's and Mother's ordeals. My privately held reconstructions of the parents' Holocaust experiences -- based largely upon my countertransference and the nature of Miriam's transference -- were later to be corroborated by the patient's aunt, whom she had consulted as she felt permitted to express her curiosity and became less fearful of her gradually emerging emotions.

In short, Miriam's mother had been imprisoned at Auschwitz. Her head was shaved, and she had alternately been starved and force-fed, as well as deprived of sleep in conjunction with various sadistic practices conducted in the camp. Meanwhile, Father had evaded incarceration for a time, hiding out from the relentless Nazi pursuit, eventually connecting with a resistance group. However, in spite of his efforts to maintain his freedom, he was eventually tracked down, arrested, and detained in a labor camp near the end of the war.

It seemed clear that Miriam had been attempting to communicate to me her experience of the parental projections of those unbearable happenings occurring during the war, as well as acting-out -- in her body, behavior and the transference -- those happenings which had been left un-experienced, foreclosed from articulate awareness and denied communicative language, first by the parents and later by Miriam herself in identification with them.

David Rosenfeld (1997) has suggested that the concept of autistic encapsulation may be applicable in the treatment of survivors of the Holocaust who have used autistic mechanisms as a way of preserving positive childhood memories and identity. However, it seems that, in the case of Miriam, the burden of her parents' encapsulated memories and identifications, transformed by the Holocaust experience, were passed down to their daughter, perhaps -- as Herbert Rosenfeld (1987) suggests -- through 'osmotic pressure' in utero, or later on through behaviorally tinged projective identification.

It also seemed likely that such experiences had resonated with the primitive somato-psychic sense of helplessness and terror, which Tustin (1981) refers to in her work with autistic children. When these infantile experiences were communicated by the baby-Miriam to her mother, perhaps resonating with the inescapable sense of terror and helplessness in Auschwitz, Mother may have been unable to breast the infantile situation for her baby, instead adding to these nascent terrors -- regarding issues of survival -- her own unbearable experiences of attempting to survive in the concentration camp.

Meanwhile, Miriam's father's own experiences, rather than mitigating these, may have added to the overflow of terror, persecution and dread. Thus, while unable to find and to introject a containing object for such happenings, Miriam may have been doomed to unwittingly re-enact these unthinkable parental experiences -- amalgamated with her own unprocessed dreads -- in her body as well as in her relationships.

It might be noted that until such containment is established in the therapeutic connection, patients like Miriam cannot begin to develop the capacity to think and so must resort to action-symptoms. The development of a space for keeping such horrors in mind comes about through a painfully gradual process, wherein the analyst's capacity -- both to experience and to bear in mind such experiences -- is itself encountered time and again by the patient and is eventually introjected. This is what we mean when we speak of the development of a containing function.

At this point, I wish to clarify that patient's like Miriam must not be confused with the sort of patient about which many authors have written. Unlike some patients, individuals like Miriam seem not to have attained the level of symbol formation, wherein they can be said to share an anguished collective memory of the Holocaust in both dreams and fantasies, reflective of recurrent references to their parents' traumatic experiences (Barocas & Barocas, 1979, p.331).

These patients do not have terrifying nightmares of the Nazi persecution, with dreams of barbed wire, gas chambers, firing squads, torture, mutilation, escaping from enemy forces and fears of extermination (Barocas & Barocas, 1979, p.331).

Instead, these children of survivors "live" such happenings in a sort of waking nightmare; nearly reproducing the events and effects of the Holocaust that have bypassed the parents, while rendering their children victimized. Unwittingly, these children have functioned, in a manner of speaking, as a healing or absorbent patch over the wounds of the Holocaust and so are felt by the parents to be extensions of their own bodies; with their own lives extending the once-interrupted lives of the parents.

In a way, the survivor-parents live through their children. Of course, these are often good and loving parents, aware only of 'wanting the best for their children'. Nachas is the only reward they consciously seek for creating the new generation. However, as Wilgowicz (1999) tells us, the underlying effect of such boundless identification is a sort of 'vampirism' in which the parent survives due to the transfusion of life from the child, while the child is left with a 'bloodless' existence. This sort of bloodlessness was expressed by Miriam in her incessant reporting of facts, with little awareness of feelings, and no space for thinking.

Here I wish to emphasize that, just as there have been leaky or inconsistent boundaries between these parents and their children, those boundaries within the psyche of the child -- between dreams and waking life, between consciousness and unconsciousness, and between mind and body -- are destined to be insufficient as well, as may be seen in Miriam's case.

Nevertheless, I believe that Miriam and I were a fortunate analytic couple. The differences between our life histories -- and those of our parents -- served as a bounding agent and provided a space for thought, while the similarities between us -- perhaps our Jewish identities -- provided an empathic medium through which the flow of communication could be facilitated and eventually analyzed in the transference. Other couples may not be so fortunate, and it is on this point I wish to briefly comment.

My experiences with Miriam put me in mind of the many supervisions and group case conferences, which I have been asked to conduct in Israel over the years, and what I have learned from them. Specifically, I began to notice in these consultations, whether individually or in groups, a marked reluctance on the part of the some therapists to make direct contact with their patients through consistent and detailed interpretation of the here-and-now of the transference/countertransference interaction as it concerns the most elemental level of experience.

Since it is my style, when engaged in such consultations, to exercise working "without memory or desire" -- as Bion (1967) called it -- I choose to forego hearing any details of the history of a case prior to the presentation of the clinical verbatim. I also refrain from asking questions, except when these arise directly from within the material itself. I find that this is one way in which one may develop an increasing conviction about the value of intuitive listening and a deepening trust in transference communications and countertransference manifestations as sources for 'learning from experience' (Bion, 1962) something of the happenings of infancy and the vicissitudes of a patient's earliest relationships.

On one occasion, while listening to the verbatim material a therapist was presenting to me, I noticed that he would veer off from interpreting his patient's experience of him in the immediate transference. On this particular occasion it was a rather distasteful bit, since it concerned the patient's complaint that the analyst was not hearing her and was felt to be shutting her out, which left the patient feeling dropped and helpless. Although I did not know why, I thought to ask at the time if this therapist and his patient had some historical event in common, to which he replied "the Holocaust" -- they were both descendants of survivors.

After many similar experiences, I have found that almost invariably in such cases, elemental happenings in the life of the patient are foreclosed from the mental sphere due to a 'coincidence of vulnerability' in both infant and mother, which is replicated later on in patient and analyst, resulting in unfortunate consequences for the development of mental structure in analysis, just as this coincidence of vulnerability had lead to a cessation of mental development in infancy. To demonstrate my point, I will give an example of this constellation as it was detected in yet another consultation.

The analyst presented material from a session with a woman near her own age. The patient came in for her Sunday hour, the first of the week, complaining that she had not been able to sleep since their last session. She then spoke of a friend who had miscarried her baby, criticizing her friend for smoking, and strongly implying that she had not taken into consideration the effects of smoking upon her fetus. The patient said that she thought her friend did not really wish to have a baby, as she was much more interested in her work and in continuing a carefree lifestyle.

The therapist took this up as a communication of her patient's sense that her mother had been negligent, smoking during her entire childhood, which made her seem carefree and left the patient feeling that she had been 'mis-carried' and therefore unloved by a mother who did not want her. The patient responded to this interpretation with the telling of a dream:

She was in a hospital and the doctor attending her bedside was not taking her complaints seriously. The patient knew she had a brain tumor as a result of some shrapnel imbedded in her head when it had ricocheted off the chest of another soldier. She thought how unfair it was since it was not her war, but rather belonged to the dispute between older generations. No one took responsibility for the conflict and she was fearful that she was going to die as a result.

The therapist continued to interpret the patient's sense that she was being made to suffer from her mother's lack of responsibility and from the war, especially the Holocaust which belonged to her mother's generation and not to her own. This analyst was unable to imagine that the patient might have been attempting to call her attention to the mis-carriage that was occurring in the analysis at that very moment, the sense that the analyst-mother was deflecting the transference including the patient's sense of being dropped and therefore mortally wounded.

The patient was unresponsive and nothing the therapist could say seemed to reach her. She remained mute until finally she said, "I've been thinking of changing jobs. My employer treats me unfairly. She blames me for everything that goes wrong. I try to take responsibility to put things right, but she never considers her part, and I feel hurt and resentful. I've been sick more often on this job than any other. I feel trapped. It's a bad job. I know I can leave, but where would I go? I'm unqualified for other work."

Painfully, the analyst continued to interpret how the patient felt trapped with the mother she was born to and the various effects upon her of the mother's Holocaust experiences. The patient fell deeper into despair, silent through to the end of the hour. This scenario is one I have frequently heard, and each time, the unifying thread seems to be the coincidence of vulnerability between therapist and patient, where each is a descendant of one or both parents who have survived the Holocaust. It seems in such cases that both patient and analyst are trapped in the experience of the Holocaust (the bad job), unable to find refuge from the psychic shrapnel that bounces off the protective shielding of their respective parents (the other soldier), with both suffering the trauma that rightfully belonged to 'another generation.' This patient tries once again to reach the analyst when she speaks of the 'bad job' and the 'blaming employer' who does not take responsibility, finally retreating into silence.

In the transference enactment of this situation, the analyst (the doctor in the dream) is felt not to be taking the patient's complaints seriously (that is, she does not take up the complaint as an indication of how the patient may be feeling about her analyst), which may result in silence -- the death or deadening of that aspect of the patient that attempts communication. Here we can see that what was interpreted was the content of the patient's material and the link to the genetic situation (in the past), while the essential experience of the patient in the here-and-now of the negative transference is bypassed, resulting in a repetition of the original trauma: that of being in the care of a mother who, while filled with her own unbearable and undigested sufferings, is unable to bear hearing of the baby's suffering in relationship to her own failings.

Not unlike the more primitive infantile unmentalized experiences (Mitrani, 1993; 1995) of helplessness, terror and loss -- those of the Holocaust have been so horrific that much of their emotional charge has been foreclosed from the mind of the parent in the service of survival. Such experiences cannot be said to have been subjected to repression -- a mental mechanism -- but must be thought of as having been isolated or encapsulated in what Federn (1952) has referred to as 'body memories' which are perceived as bodily states and reacted to on a visceral or motoric level resulting in physical symptoms and actions, or as 'memories in feeling', a term coined by Klein (1957) to denote certain pre-verbal affective states that can only find expression through relational enactment. While so quarantined, these painful protomental states will remain highly immutable until and unless they are liberated into the realm of thought.

In some cases, where the awareness of the impact of the Holocaust cannot be tolerated by the survivor-parent, these experiences have been transmitted to the next generation. I would suggest that this transmission may have occurred at a time when the infant's projected sensations of helplessness and loss were originally communicated to the parent, resonating with the parent's own similar experiences during the Holocaust. When these infantile experiences threaten to penetrate the isolation chamber created to encapsulate these terrible encounters, there is an overflow or perhaps a backflow of terror into the infant rather than a working-over in the mind of the parent.

Bion (1959) referred to this phenomenon in his discussion of the 'nameless dread'. In his theory of thinking, Bion (1959) suggested that the mother who is impaired in her capacity for reverie may not be able to receive her baby's communications, and may be internalized as an obstructive object which is unwilling or unable to contain. Additionally, if she cannot digest that which she receives, but is instead felt to add her own anxieties to those already overwhelming the infant (i.e., using the infant as a container for her own 'unthinkable dreads'), then what she hurriedly gives back to the baby will be suitable only for some hyperbolic form of discharge. Consequently, the baby will develop a precocious mind as an instrument for evacuating or encapsulating experience, rather than as an instrument for thinking thoughts.

Of course the infant may also play an active role in perpetuating this cycle. As Klein (1946) points out, the introjection of the good object, necessary for tolerating anxiety, may be impeded when "the [infant's] ego is compulsively subordinated to [the good object's] preservation" (p.9 n). Thus, in the case of pre-mature concern for the welfare of the object, or what Klein (1930) called pre-mature empathy toward the breast, phantasy-life may be truncated, and the process of symbol formation may be brought to a halt in yet another generation.

In order for substitutions, displacements, and equations to be effected, anxiety must be tolerated. Intolerance results in a retreat to a prenatal existence and an absolute identification with the object, which serves to perpetuate the vicious cycle, wherein the confusion between self and object then extends to a confusion of ego with the object, and consequently to a confusion of the symbol with the object symbolized. This cycle may account for the extremes of identification with the survivor parent, noted by many authors, in children of survivors who behave, to an appreciable degree, as if they themselves had experienced the horrors of the Holocaust.

Such dread-provoking experiences that cannot be worked over through contact with the mother -- and, through extension and symbolization, in the outside world -- will remain at a concrete level: virtually unmentalized, perhaps finding expression only in the realm of mindless action or somatization (Mitrani, 1993; 1995). Fortunately, the proverbial buck may be stopped in analysis, and this cycle may be interrupted. Perhaps when there is such a coincidence of vulnerability in patient and analyst an intervening presence, such as a supervisor, can bring into awareness that which has been doubly scotomatized in the couple.

You may recall that Strachey (1969), in writing about the mutative interpretation, suggested that there is always some special internal difficulty to be overcome by the analyst in order for him to pronounce interpretations addressing the immediate transference situation, where the analyst is both the object of the patients impulses and at the same time his auxiliary superego.

Strachey suggests that when this special internal difficulty is touched upon by the patient's material,

There is a constant temptation for the analyst to do something else instead. He may ask questions . . . give reassurances or advice, or discourses upon theory, or he may give interpretations, but interpretations which are not mutative, extratransferential interpretations, interpretations that are non-immediate, or ambiguous or inexact . . . All of this strongly suggests that the giving of a mutative interpretation is a crucial act for the analyst as well as for the patient . . . and that [the analyst] is exposing himself to some great danger in doing so (p.291).

Perhaps in helping to delineate this danger, a sturdy third party to the analytic connection -- not unlike the Father who intervenes to facilitate both bonding and separation in the mother-infant couple -- may be able to break the collusive pact, and may serve to provide an auxiliary container for their otherwise-unthinkable dreads of annihilation.

My own experience of brief interventions with therapeutic couples in Israel has been most rewarding in this respect, as I have often received reports that these consultations have lead to increasing awareness of the tendency to avoid direct and immediate contact with the patient's experience on the part of the clinician, alleviating impasses and furthering the therapeutic effects of such treatments.


References
Barocas, C. & Barocas, H. (1979). Wounds of the fathers: the next generation of Holocaust victims. Int. Rev. of Psycho-Anal. 6:331-340.

Bion, W. R. (1959). Theory of thinking. Int. J. of Psycho-Anal., 43: 306-10.

_________. (1962). Learning from experience. In Seven Servants. New York: Jason Aronson.

________. (1967). Notes on memory and desire. Psychoanalytic Forum, 2 (3):272-273.

Federn, P. (1952). Ego Psychology and the Psychoses. New York: Basic Books.

Klein, M .(1930). The importance of symbol-formation in the development of the ego. In Contributions to Psycho-analysis. London: Hogarth Press. pp. 236-250.

________. (1946). Notes on some schizoid mechanisms. In Envy and Gratitude and Other Works. New York: Dell. pp.1-24.

________. (1957). Envy and gratitude. In Envy and Gratitude and Other Works. New York: Dell Publishing, 1975, pp. 176-235.

Mitrani, J. L. (1993). 'Unmentalized' experience in the etiology and treatment of psychosomatic asthma. Contemporary Psychoanalysis, 29 (2):314-342.

__________.(1995). Toward an understanding of unmentalized experience. Psychoanalytic Quarterly, 64: 68-112.

Rosenfeld, D. (1997). Understanding varieties of autistic encapsulation: a homage to Frances Tustin. In J. Mitrani & T. Mitrani (eds.) Encounters with Autistic States: A Memorial Tribute to Frances Tustin. Northvale, New Jersey: Jason Aronson.

Rosenfeld, H. A. (1987). Impasse and Interpretation: Therapeutic and Anti-Therapeutic Factors in Psychoanalytic Treatment of Psychotic, Borderline, and Neurotic Patients. London: Tavistock.

Strachey, J. (1969). The nature of the therapeutic action of psychoanalysis. Int. J. of Psycho-Anal., 50 (3): 275-292.

Tustin, F. (1981). Autistic States in Children. London/Boston: Routledge & Kegan Paul Ltd.

________. (1986). Autistic Barriers in Neurotic Patients. London: Karnac Books, Ltd.

________. (1992). Autistic States In Children. London: Routledge.

Wilgowicz, P. (1999). Listening psychoanalytically to the Shoah half a century on. Int. J. of Psycho-Anal., 80 (3): 429-438.

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Judith Mitrani,, Ph.D. is a Training and Supervising Analyst at both The Psychoanalytic Center of California and The Los Angeles Institute and Society for Psychonalytic Studies. Dr. Mitrani has published numerous papers in the area of primitive mental states in both international and American journals. She is the author of the book Framework for the Imaginary: Clinical Explorations in Primitive States of Being and is also co-editor of the book Encounters with Autistic States: A Memorial Tribute to Frances Tustin. Her new book Ordinary People and Extra-Ordinary Protections: a Post-Kleinian Approach to the Treatment of Primitive Mental States was released in March of 2001. Dr. Mitrani has served as Associate Editor on the North American Board of the International Journal of Psycho-Analysis and the Editorial Board of the Journal of Primitive Mental States, and she is the founding and current Chair of the International Frances Tustin Memorial Trust. She is in private practice with adults in Beverly Hills, California.

Judith L. Mitrani, Ph.D
9735 Wilshire Blvd. Suite 422
Beverly Hills, CA 90212
E-Mail: fraudoktorm@earthlink.net