Motherhussy

Should I? (Part II)

My life is insane, let me tell you! By 1035 this morning I am already faced with three tough decisions to make. Here they are:

1. Should I cancel my appointment with my therapist?

2. Should I see the doctor about my sore neck?

3. Should I have tipped the Starbuck's drive-through guy?

In the interest of attention spans and time, I think I'll try to decide decision #1.

Should I cancel my appointment with my therapist?

This therapy session will officially be the third session I have had since starting in May. Why did I decide to try therapy, you ask? Well, many reasons, but to avoid being too depressing I won't get into the real reasons, I'll make up some reasons, here it goes:

1. I obsessively collect full cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon beer.
2. I hide my collection of Pabst Blue Ribbon beer in random places around the house hoping my husband won't find them and accuse me of incredibly poor taste.
3. I only eat at 3:27 p.m. on even numbered days.
4. I get furious and want to cut someone whenever I realize Bo Bice lost on American Idol.
5. I want to scrub the sidewalks of Long Beach, but the dirt WON'T COME OFF!

Anyway, I have a therapy session at 0330 today and I don't really want to go. I feel that the sessions haven't been productive yet. Basically, I'm not normal yet and I want to be fixed NOW. Here is how my past sessions have gone:

Shrink: So how have you been since I last saw you?
Me: Fine.
Shrink: Good.
Me: Silent.
Shrink: Have you finished the homework assignment I gave you last time?
Me: No.
Shrink: Okay.
(I sit and stare at the floor while the shrink sits and stares at me)
Shrink: What are you thinking about? What's on your mind?
Me: Nothing really.
(Long, florescent lighted silence)
Shrink: Well, our 45 minutes is up. See you next week.
Me: Ok, see you next week.

I feel like my therapist thinks I'm fine and I shouldn't be in there sitting on his tear-stained couch. But, there obviously is something wrong with me because I think I can read my therapist's mind. I guess I am just having a hard time opening up to him. I mean, the guy is a short, balding red-head with both his ears pierced. He wears fruit loop colored hawaiian shirts, leather shoes with tassles, and no socks. He uses words like "hopeless" and "helpless" and gives me remedies like, "treat yourself like a stranger." What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I don't even talk to strangers. Should I ignore myself, is that what that means?

I guess I'll go anyway. Maybe I'll have a "break-through" or something in this session. Maybe the 45 minutes will go by a little slower and I'll actually feel like I've learned something. Or maybe I'll just leave feeling "hopeless" and "helpless" again.

On the lighter side of things--TGIF! Pass the Pabst Blue Ribbon (which I will promptly stash in my sons trunk of Legos)!

posted by Anonymous @ 9:23 AM