what not to say

[threeplusfire]

I had a therapy appointment today that was more theater of the absurd than therapy. I saw this woman last week because I was wrecked from a rather sudden and difficult friendship implosion. I wanted to talk out the situation with someone neutral, and as I was depressed and miserable at the time it might as well be a therapist.

This woman doesn't really seem to listen to me, and carries no shortage of preconceived notions. Even her language is so heavily loaded. She seemed to completely miss the point of what I was saying, and blurred a lot of information together into a very confusing mishmash. On the first visit, I really didn't get along with her. But I decided that I would give her another shot and went back today.

Today was even worse than the first time. This woman was no help to me at all. She told me last week that she would get me the number of a paticular support group I was interested in, and she didn't do that. She wanted to know if my parents abused me, and was my husband more like my father or my mother, and my friend is so angry with me because she is repressing homosexual urges to date me. Oh and I'm codependent too, and I should read some really trashy self help books. I made another appointment in two weeks time, but I think I'm going to cancel. I'm not paying for this since it is through the EAP program, but damn.

My biggest complaint is that she does not listen to me. I want to talk about what to do about how my relationship with this friend is on the line, how to respond to her email, what to do about the whole messy situation. But this woman wants to ask me if my parents beat me. The fact that she has come to this utterly bizarre conclusion regarding my friend is just the icing on the cake.

All in all, I left feeling pretty disgruntled. I should just pay Kevin for phone counselling and not seek out these crackpots masquerading as professionals. The only useful advice she gave was that if I write an email or letter, I should write as if I'm not ever going to get another chance to communicate.

Workmen are ripping up the laundry room, so they are right on the other side of the bedroom wall using saws and hammers. I can even hear the guys snezing from the sheetrock dust. I want to ask them why the hell they are doing this while it's so damp outside. But they had the laundry room closed off all weekend, so I'm just hoping they finish whatever they are doing soon.

I decided after the crackpot therapist I really wanted some peace. I dropped off a package at the post office, and went out to lunch with a copy of Harpers, My waitress was very charming and had this beautiful voice. She sang under her breath everywhere she went. Plus, she gave me extra mints. Mmm mints. It improved my mood considerably.

So I think I will go read, and ignore the banging sounds on the other side of the wall.

Comments

[mielikki.livejournal.com]

I initially read this as you went out with your copy of Herpes, which was passing strange.

Where is this singing mint-dispensing waitress? I wanna go!

[tsarina.livejournal.com]

Hahah, oh no. The singing waitress was at olive Garden, of all the random places. I just really wanted breadsticks. Her name was Sherri.

[cjwriter.livejournal.com]

Definitely get a new therapist. You can do better than her.

Have you been going to writing group lately?

[tsarina.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I think I'm going to cancel that appointment and find someone else. Sheesh.

I have not been going to the writing group. mostly I've been so caught up in work lately that I haven't been writing, and it just isn't doing anything for me. Though i believe Paul is leading it now, as the woman leading it dropped out.

[ladypeculiar.livejournal.com]

Oy vey, I've had therapists like that. This one chick who kept telling me to take primrose oil (diarheaa like you've never HAD before, ech) and always vaguely was hinting that I must have been abused (nope).


There are good'uns out there, but they are few and far between. I had an incredible cognitive therapist in Washington. She was far smarter than I, and knew how to steer my thoughts so that they made sense.

Don't give up, and in the meantime singing waitresses are always the best medicine. :)

[tsarina.livejournal.com]

Ouch. I don't think I would eat or drink anything on the advice of my wacky therapist. plus, she was wearing a zebra cropped pant suit, and it was just a little sinister.

Here's to hoping the next one is better.

I wanted to ask my waitress if she was an actor or in a band. She was so charming! Calling me "my dear and swooping by. I left a huge tip because she brought me extra mints. :D

[alainn-sorcha.livejournal.com]

Repressed homosexual urges?!?

Note to therapist: Lay off the crack before work.

[tsarina.livejournal.com]

No shit, I kid you not. She actually said that to me. Dude. WTF?

[alainn-sorcha.livejournal.com]

I think she has repressed urges to fuck Freud's cold, dead corpse.

[tsarina.livejournal.com]

Bwhahahahahahahah.
It was seriously strange. And she kept calling everyone addicts! WTF? I'm not addicted because I've bought porn.

[in-thy-bounty.livejournal.com]

When I went to get help with depression, the doctor told me to read a book called 'treating your own depression' and to come back in a month if I wasn't feeling better. What little faith I had in counselling was quickly exploded with that one.

[tsarina.livejournal.com]

Wow. That is so wrong and screwy on multiple levels.