El Therapist
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
A bout a month ago I went to see a therapist. Don’t judge me. Now, I don’t mock people who seek help or the session itself. I haven’t gone to see a therapist since College – long story short, someone made me go, she thought I needed to let things air out. These days, therapy is a la mode. Everyone sees one – at least once. Don’t deny. But I thought, after college I didn’t think I needed professional help to analyze my drama. Usually I am pretty self-aware and usually work out my own shit on my own. Any therapist would say that is the worst thing you can possibly do.
But Lately, I started to suspect that things in my past might be affecting me in a calculated field of my life. AND since I had recently done my benefits for the new year and noticed that I am covered for X amount of visits at a therapist or psychologist ( I wouldn’t go there- it would really mean I have issues) I jumped on the therapist wagon and opt for a session with an Upper West Side therapist. I’ll call her D.
Dr. D's office seemed like any good ole apartment in Manhattan…a little crowded, a little stuffy; book shelves everywhere and no pictures. As soon as I sat down, she said to talk. So I go on and tell her about my concern and that it may affect my daily routines. I talked and analyzed my own shit, I basically did her work, but I am sure all therapy sessions are like that. More like… “Hey, talk, you are the idiot for sitting here and spending 500 bucks an hour when you obviously know where your problems are coming from”.
The hour went by rather quickly. She fired lots of questions and I utterly responded with pure honesty. There were moments though where we would stare at each other. Awkward moments.
As soon as our chitchat time was up she asked if I wanted to come back and I said, “should I come back? Are you telling me something here?” and she replied “no no no” and so I got up and said, “ok then, I think I am done here”.
The good thing about this little therapy trip is that I found out that I am not a crazy fuck and trust me it was a big load off my shoulders. So I should take the time and thank Dr. D.
Thank you, Dr. D.
But Lately, I started to suspect that things in my past might be affecting me in a calculated field of my life. AND since I had recently done my benefits for the new year and noticed that I am covered for X amount of visits at a therapist or psychologist ( I wouldn’t go there- it would really mean I have issues) I jumped on the therapist wagon and opt for a session with an Upper West Side therapist. I’ll call her D.
Dr. D's office seemed like any good ole apartment in Manhattan…a little crowded, a little stuffy; book shelves everywhere and no pictures. As soon as I sat down, she said to talk. So I go on and tell her about my concern and that it may affect my daily routines. I talked and analyzed my own shit, I basically did her work, but I am sure all therapy sessions are like that. More like… “Hey, talk, you are the idiot for sitting here and spending 500 bucks an hour when you obviously know where your problems are coming from”.
The hour went by rather quickly. She fired lots of questions and I utterly responded with pure honesty. There were moments though where we would stare at each other. Awkward moments.
As soon as our chitchat time was up she asked if I wanted to come back and I said, “should I come back? Are you telling me something here?” and she replied “no no no” and so I got up and said, “ok then, I think I am done here”.
The good thing about this little therapy trip is that I found out that I am not a crazy fuck and trust me it was a big load off my shoulders. So I should take the time and thank Dr. D.
Thank you, Dr. D.
