Gradually during classes and on campus, I experienced difficulty relating to him until I was at his throat. I transferred feelings of rage from inside me onto him. Angry as I was at him, I hung in there and, surprisingly, I still received a very good subject grade from him.
Who's there? Consciously, I say, "It was Fr., my psychology prof." Yet, only after several years later did I have a self-analysis breakthrough where I suddenly saw how inappropriate the intensity of my feelings were for "Fr." Locked in the grip of what psychotherapists call "transference," my behavior shrieked a different answer: "My own father."
Aha! It's definitely helpful in recovering to know who's really there.