PSU Magazine Winter 1992

there's this whole field of mental health to be explored." At the time of her friend's uicicle, Willis he ld a graduate degree in English from the University of Oregon. She decided that an MSW from PSU would deepen her academic expertise and add to the understanding she could bring to her clients. But she entered PSU with some trepidation. A lthough she feels positive about her education, she reports feeling on edge at times because of her per– sonal background. "A friend who had been through the program warn d me not to even men– tion that 1was from Lake Oswego. She felt she encountered a lot of prejudice just because of where he lived," Willis say . "l took her advice pretty seriously. I kept a low profile in class and didn't talk about wanting to pecialize in problems of wealth. "But 1was convinced it was right," she says, shrugging. "This sounds kind of corny, but I fee l a real sense of mis– sion. 1enjoy being a pioneer, and this is an area of service in p ychology which needs to be developed. There's a great need for what I'm doing." Most of Willis' clients have seen other therapists before they are referred to her. Often, the referring source is an accountant, an estate planner, or an attorney who is helping manage their money. "People in the financial community think I'm a great resource, but they have to be delicate when recommend– ing people to me. I mean, you can't ju t tell people they need to see a therapist. So l'm referred to as a consultant, or someone who' compiled a reading list of books that deal with issues regarding wealth. l've heard that once or twice someone has actually said, 'Gee, I wish there was a therapist who dea lt with money issues,' and then the referral was easy. But that doesn't happen very often." Willis thinks a non-wealthy therapist could work with rich clients, but she also thinks that many of her clients prefer a counselor who under– stands firsthand the problems involved in living with wealth. She cites the '' It's that feeling of being different, of being isolated, that keeps many wealthy people stuck in their problems. Taken to its extreme, the lack of support can lead to suicide-what Willis calls the ultimate cry for help. '' case of a friend who had worked through several major issues with hi therapist. "When he needed to talk about problems arising from his wealth, the therapist wasn't able to help. He said, 'I really don't understand your problems and I find myself envious of you. I need to refer you to another therapist.' My friend appreciated the honesty, but he felt adrift." It's that feeling of being different, of being isolated, that keeps many weal– thy people stuck in their problems. Taken to its extreme, the lack of sup– port can lead to suicide-what Willis calls the ultimate cry for help. That's why she' especially excited by a new project: helping to teach a client's children about the appropriate use of the family wealth. "I feel privileged to be involved. Most parents don't think about their kids' need to learn about money. That leaves the kids out in the cold, not knowing what to expect. They need openness to develop healthy attitude toward money." She would also like to see age– appropriate education about money and responsibility taught in every school. "Sex is out of the closet," she says. "We talk about it everywhere, including the classroom. It's time for money to get the same treatment. And I'm convinced that it will." Willis has obviously worked through many of her own issue about having wealth, and credits much of that to her parents. "My parents taught u to use money for something other than oursel– ves. It's a piritual belief-having been given so much, it's important to be grateful and to express that gratitude in practical ways. I really believe that charitable giving is a privilege. The rewards of giving money to a cause I believe in are tremendous." Yet she intends to take money education even further with her own daughter. "I want her to know what to expect. I want her to kn w what we have, how to be respon ible with it, and how to make choices. I believe in being open with her, educating her about her options." Then she laughs. "lt's a little early to start, though. She's on ly six months old." Between caring for her baby and working with clients, Willis also recent– ly found the time to teach a series of seminars in Portland and Seattle. Working in conjunction with Progres– sive Securities, a Portland-ba ed, social– ly responsible investment firm, she di cussed money issues with peop le from all walks of life-those with money, those without, those going through temporary financial straits while starting a busines or ending a marriage. She is also co-authoring a book focusing on the challenges of wealth. This busy schedule forced her to lay a idea private grant she received last year to study the emotional troubles of the rich. "l got that grant before 1 found out I was pregnant. Something had to give, and that was it." The woman who spends her days advising others to be open and honest about money practices what she preaches. Her husband of four years does not come from a wealthy back– ground; they have much to discuss when handling family finances. "This is new ground for both of us," Wi ll is says. "We both contribute financially to the relationship, and we manage all our money together, but every so often we get out of balance about the way things are handled-just like other couples." And what do they do when that happens? Thayer Willis smiles. "We talk it out." D (Meg DesCamp is a Portland free-lance writer.) PSU 21