She rages and I just listen. When spent, I tell her she is howling at the moon, but say so with a lilt in my voice, with understanding. There are those times when frustration rules, and venting in a safe venue makes sense. I even suggest that it could serve her well, ward off depression and allow her to move on.

            Married for over twenty-five years, she and her husband traveled the long road to mediated agreements and now the end is in sight. It has been a difficult trek.Their motivations so very different, he relieved, eager for a new start, and generous financially as he departs. She bereft, alternately silenced by anxiety, and vocal, resentment fueling demands.

            Now the design of the last puzzle piece, the contribution each would make for their youngest child’s college education, was about to fall into place. Just the day before, he’d sent a proposal that she read as being so equivocal in its language as to be meaningless, at best unenforceable. So in her phone conversation with me she fumes. I wait out the storm.

            She reports that the goodwill they’d begun to rebuild as parents living apart, had waned, and that they are less able now to share joyful moments witnessing their children’s endeavors. Although the evidence is scant, she fears he will reverse course on agreements already made, and is sure she knows why he's being so guarded, perhaps retreating. His friends are cast as amoral and mean spirited players, come belatedly to stand by his side.

            It was not difficult for me to understand her fear. His early favorable offers, made in the privacy of my office, were thankfully received. But when later disclosed and reviewed by outsiders, he was chided, his decisions called into question. Those coaching from the sidelines had little understanding of how thoughtfully this pair had worked to achieve their shared vision, for themselves and their children’s futures. Nor did these allies share any responsibility for, or knowledge of, the ramifications of the new path they urged him to take. In his latest communication his wife only saw his capitulation to the boorish view of his posse, a primitive need to assert his manhood in the face of this heedless crew, a sentiment she spat out, each word clipped for emphasis.

            It was then that I compared her to a wounded animal proclaiming its misery, howling at the moon. I said: Fine. It’s smart to taste your anger. But now that you have, can you recognize that, however inartfully, he is still coming toward you in an effort to reach agreement. It’s time to look at your choices and consider the consequences of each:

            You can give in to the temptation to throw down the litigation gauntlet, but then likely put at risk the benefits already worked out.

            Or you could respectfully confirm past agreements and acknowledge this effort on his part regarding college expenses, and state your concern about the vague language used. Then propose another option, which you might develop together, until you both find it acceptable, even if not perfect.

            The significance of this choice needed no further analysis with this now seasoned negotiator. Once again calm, she recognized that a verbal assault with accusatory words of anger might do damage difficult to repair.

            But the moon has no inner light source, only reflects what is sent, without memory or comment, so one can howl without risk, if only heard by the wind.