me vs. therapy

‘so, what would you like to talk about?’

Shrug. Say; ‘you pick…surprise me.’

‘well, since we’re on the eve of thanksgiving why don’t we discuss some things that you’re thankful for?’

‘that’s a little bit on the gay side.’

‘considering that you are too, even more appropriate.’

‘fine, but i’m going to have to think about it for a minute since thankfulness is never at the forefront of my thoughts.’

‘i understand. take your time.’

Concentrate.

Frown.

Squint.

Sigh hard.

Look over at Satan. Satan holds up photo of hot, naked woman.

Shake head.

Satan throws on ground. Holds up photo of mac ‘n cheese.

Shake head.

Satan throws on ground. Holds up photo of turbocharger.

Shake head.

Satan throws up hands. Sighs.

Look back at therapist, say; ‘do i have to be sentimental and gross and talk about friends and family and blah, blah, blah?’

‘i would expect nothing less if you chose not to.’

‘good. well then, i’m thankful that i went to college and got a degree because despite the fact that none of my employers have ever asked to see transcripts that prove i actually got the degree, they have been happy to pay me well based solely on the fact that i presumably do have that piece of paper…well, and because i’m charming.’

Therapist snorts.

Say; ‘did you just snort at me?’

‘yes, i did. where is your degree, if you don’t mind me asking?’

‘hmm. i think the last time i saw it was when i was rummaging through a rubbermaid container at my parents house and i found it under my old copy of maxim with lucy lawless in a black camisole on the cover.’

‘a place of prominence and importance.’

‘hey, not all of us are fancy shrinks who feel the need to tack up our awards and degrees on the wall behind us in every office we occupy.’

Therapist swings chair around, glances up at wall. Turns back around, says; ‘yes, i find that whenever i’m feeling small, lonely and unimportant i can just look up at all my masters degrees and phd’s and feel fully fulfilled by my accomplishments staring right back at me.’

‘i feel fully fulfilled when i think of all the hot girls i’ve fu….’

‘angela.’

‘yeah?’

‘what else are you thankful for?’

‘i’m thankful for my therapist, making me feel more comfortable with myself one uncomfortable session after another.’

Therapist stares.

Stare back.

Therapist says; ‘thank you for the almost praise.’

‘you’re welcome!’

‘i’d like you to know that i’m thankful that you’ve become more self aware and able to share more and more about who you really are with me.’

‘thanks! do you really think i’m making progress?’

‘do you think you’re making progress?’

‘no.’

Therapist rolls eyes, says; ‘why do you say that?’

‘because i’m single, i hate my job and i don’t like where i live. kind of like…exactly where i was when we first met.’

‘yes, maybe. but at least you’re better able to cope with it.’

‘you think so?’

‘certainly. when’s the last time you cried uncontrollably for no apparent reason?’

‘yesterday.’

‘umm. ok. well, when’s the last time you exhibited rage?’

‘monday on the highway.’

‘i’d venture a guess that you’re making this all up in an attempt to be funny.’

Smile.

Therapist smiles.

Say; ‘thanks for everything. i can’t wait ‘til i’m completely not broken anymore.’

‘as much as that day will hurt me when it arrives, seeing as how i will no longer collect gobs of cash from you, i can’t wait either.’

‘when i’m completely not broken anymore, i probably won’t be as funny.’

‘something i hope we can both live with.’

‘hey, you know what i just remembered?’

‘that you’ve been under the influence of a high powered narcotic administered by an alien race thousands of years ago and are just now awakening from its affects to fulfill your sleeper cell agenda to destroy our world?’

‘no…i just remembered that an exceptionally smart friend suggested that i may be in a distancer/pursuer pattern of dating.’

‘yes. you are.’

‘why didn’t you tell me that before?!’

‘sometimes, finding things out on our own is the best way to learn a lesson. Feeding you everything will only prove pointless.’

Frown, say; ‘maybe you’re right.’

‘all the degrees behind me staring at you say that i am.’

‘well, i’m going to practice not being the pursuer.’

‘a lofty goal that i’m sure you can achieve.’

‘you mean that?’

‘no.’

‘hey, you’re being funny again.’

‘it’s a character flaw. have a great thanksgiving angela. And remember, eat the turkey, don’t date them.’

Smile.

‘i stare a lot.’

‘uh-huh.’

‘out into space mostly. like when you’re imagining a scene in your head and not really seeing what’s in front of you.’

‘yes. i understand what staring is.’

‘oh. right.’

‘i think you might consider practicing not staring into space.’

‘i probably should.’

‘there’s really no probably about it. you need to.’

‘ok, ok. i know. it’s just i’m mopey and sad right now.’

‘way to finally join the rest of us.’

‘sorry?’

‘nothing. what i think happens to you is often times you get mired down in the negative, cyclical thoughts…especially after a breakup like you’ve just had.’

‘err, is there some other way…because, i kinda thought that was the whole "process".’

‘i really do enjoy your air quotes.’

‘thank you.’

‘and no, that doesn’t always have to be your process.’

‘so…how else could i "process" this?’

‘first, please stop air quoting, it’s making me want to laugh at you and given the very serious environment we’re in i wouldn’t want to diminish the atmosphere with laughter.’

‘that’s very kind of you, even though you drip of sarcasm. so how else could i process this?’

‘thank you. well, you could dive into some volunteering or take up a part time job or…’

‘bang more bitches?!’

‘uhh, no. i wasn’t going to suggest that.’

‘i hear it’s a good way to go.’

‘is that right? and who do you hear that from?’

‘what do you mean?’

‘i mean, what kind of people are telling you to umm,....bang more ‘bitches’?’

‘people who get over their ex’s really quickly.’

‘i beg to differ. i think often times those people are running from their emotions and feelings. it eventually catches them.’

‘what’s it do when it catches them?’

‘beats them over the head with savage blunt force trauma.’

‘really?’

‘angela, i don’t know!’

‘well, you put it out there.’

‘what i’m trying to say is that running from loss, feelings, emotions doesn’t necessarily do anything but postpone them, so why on earth would you want to do that?’

‘uhh, because then i won’t be staring into space.’

‘exactly, you’ll be staring into the eyes of some ugly girl with herpes that you dragged into your bed after a night of sloppy drinking and poor decision making.’

‘that doesn’t sound as exciting as the people who get over their ex’s quickly by banging bitches make it sound.’

‘no, it doesn’t, does it?’

‘not that i could find bitches to bang anyway.’

‘what’s with all this bitches talk…i thought they were donkeys?’

‘sorry, i slipped out of character in my sadness.’

‘understandable. now, why do you think you can’t find donkeys to….you know?’

‘i don’t know. honestly, maybe i’m difficult to deal with….or i smell like something offensive.’

‘or because you use air quotes.’

‘air quotes are funny.’

‘air quotes are not funny and you’re completely datable you just need to think more positively about life and smile once in a while.’

‘right. well, i’ll practice that dandy advice and by the time i see you next i’m sure i’ll be all fixed and better and perfect.’

‘as long as you don’t show up with herpes, i’ll consider it a win.’

'you know what i consider a win?'

'...not forgetting to brush your teeth in the morning?'

'that's not funny.'

'matching your socks?'

'stop it!'

'making it to the bathroom in time?'

Frown.

Therapist smiles back.

say; 'thanks for making me smile.'

'you're frowning.'

'not on the inside.'

'well, there's step one.'

'well, i walked in the door and she immediately gave me that look.'

'were you scared?'

'a little. i mean, usually she's nicer to me when i show up, but for some reason she was stand-offish and just looked out of the corner of her eye.'

'then what happened?'

'i put the mail on the counter and asked if she was ready.'

'to which she responded....'

'she just kind of grunted, then ran into the bedroom and threw herself on the bed.'

Therapist shakes head, says; 'she certainly plays games.'

'i know, i couldn't tell if i was going to get my head ripped off or if she was gonna lick me to death.'

'i didn't think she was the licking kind.'

'yeah...not really. she's much more of a biter.'

'so, did you make out alright?'

'after i rubbed her belly and talked sweet to her and gave her a doggie treat, she was great. i actually got the harness around her fat sausage belly this time in under 10 minutes. the problem came when we got around to the side of the house and the neighbor dogs were out.'

'oh hell...'

'yeah. you know how much she hates other dogs.'

'yes, i remember the last time you looked after her. how's the shoulder?'

'not so bad this time, since i was braced for it. i've never met a dog with that much torque.'

'well, i'm glad you had company...for a while at least.

'too bad it was a dog.'

'dogs are soothing. well...most dogs. what else did you do?'

'i played cook-for-myself.'

'oh, that's fun. what did you end up making?'

'a mess.'

'likely.'

'i started out with rice. you know how much i like rice...i failed to check out the fridge situation first and ended up finding only eggs and shrimp.'

'your special cook-for-myself meal was rice, shrimp and eggs?'

'yeah. it wasn't really that good. at all.'

'what a surprise.'

'at least i tried.'

'at least you tried. that's what matters.'

'you know what else matters...making sure you have soy sauce.'

'you didn't have soy sauce?'

'i threw it out 2 days earlier in a clean out every reminder fit.'

'sometimes...and this is just a suggestion...when you have those feelings of fit coming on...it's best to reflect on food products and maybe think twice on them before they end up in the trash.'

'yeah, you're probably right...as usual.'

Look over at satan, satan shakes soy sauce, opens cap, chugs.'

Frown in disgust, look back at therapist, say: 'i think i'm gonna just stick to the granola bars and potato buns that i used to eat when i was the skinnier version of me.'

'that sounds really unhealthy.'

'it probably is. but i'll be skinny.'

'well, in that case by all means....'

'your sarcasm isn't really funny today.'

'neither is your blog.'

'eh...at least i'm trying. you're not supposed to kick me when i'm down.'

'consider it tough love.'

'tough love sucks.'

'all love sucks.'

'touche.'

'you forgot the accent over the e.'

'no, i didn't. i just threw out the how-to-type-accent-marks-on-your-blog in my fit.'

'touché.'

'damn it!'

'how's life?'

'fine.'

'oh. i'd heavily sigh but my current bout with the cold has constrained my chest so much that it's hard to breathe. fines with you mean not fine at all.'

'i'm single.'

'oh boy.'

'yep.'

'i see. that would explain the puffy eyes.'

'and the lackluster spirit.'

'yes. and the old hoodie that is basically your woobie.'

'it's soft. it makes wiping my nose easier.'

'yes, woobies are good for that. well...what did you do?'

'i was me.'

'i don't understand.'

'i was me. that's what i did. too much me usually means running girl.'

'i meant what did you do after the breakup?

'oh. cried.'

'i'm sorry. i know how excited you were for this.'

'i'll just add it to the list titled Shit Angela Was Wrong About.'

'don't be too hard on yourself. it's not your fault.'

'really? ok, i'll blame the cats.'

Therapist frowns.

Satan giggles.

Frown at Satan. Satan stops giggling.

Look back at therapist, therapist says; 'you need to keep yourself busy'.

'wow, you must've gotten an a+ in therapist school.'

'angela.'

'what.'

'please don't take out your frustrations on those that are trying to help.'

'i'm sorry.'

'it's ok. anything else new...or happy?'

Blank stare.

Blank stare back.

Blank stare.

Blank stare back.

'ummm....i've started running again.'

'well that's positive!'

'yes. my knees aren't happy about it. i never thought i'd be one of those middle-aged dykes with the creaky knees. i feel like i need to chop all my hair off and dye it salt & pepper and buy some sort of subaru.'

'you just got a new car.'

'true. and it now has 342 sad songs loaded up on the flash drive ready to play at a moments notice as soon as i  reach for the windshield wiper and accidently hit the stereo on button and up pops at the loudest possible volume some phil collins singing seperate lives.'

'how long did you cry?'

'3 blocks. then i had to laugh.'

'or else you'd just keep crying.'

'correct.'

'how was work.'

'fine after everyone stopped staring at me and asking questions.'

'what did you say?'

'that i'd been maced by an overly reactive old lady with a cane as i tried to help her with her groceries.'

'did they buy it?'

'considering i got free lunch, free diet coke and a constant stream of sympathetic sad looks, no.'

'at least they try.'

'yes. they are a nice bunch. too bad we're all stuck in hell together.'

Look over at Satan, Satan lowers head wipes away tear.

Look back at therapist, say; 'when does it all fit into place?'

'when does what all fit into place?'

'life.'

'no one can answer that. sometimes it just does. sometimes it just doesn't.'

'i hope it just does.'

'i do too, angela.'

'working for angry boss is somewhat akin to dating the alcoholic.’

‘how do you mean?’

‘well, angry boss is crazy but has this magic sorcerer-like ability to make me think that i’m crazy.’

‘explain.’

‘hmm, ok….the other afternoon, i get this email saying “angela, you never responded to my email from this morning, what is the status of such and such and why haven’t you responded!!!”.’

‘three exclamation points huh?’

‘i know. that’s oh shit territory right there.’

‘yes, it is. go on…’

‘well, i start getting heart palpitations because i’ve missed a morning email from angry boss and now i’ve let angry boss down and shit hurry up and read it and get back to angry boss and apologize profusely and should i buy angry boss a card and a stuffed teddy bear with a note that expresses how sorry i am that I failed…’

Therapist looks over at satan, rolls eyes. Looks back, says; ‘continue…’

‘so i frantically search through my inbox…nothing. then search through my junk box. nothing. my outbox. nothing. my shit-i-must-keep-to-cover-my-own-ass box. nothing. finally, i try the deleted folder…’

‘to which i’m sure you found nothing?’

‘right. so now i’m all in a tizzy because angry boss must have sent that email this morning because angry boss said angry boss sent that email this morning and why would angry boss say that if angry boss hadn’t and where the hell did my outlook stick it and why does my outlook hate me and oh my god now i’m going to get canned because i can’t even check email the right way and is that the mexican from last night coming up my esophagus?’.

Satan farts. Lights match.

Therapist says; ‘i think you get a little too worked up about some things that probably aren’t that life altering.’

‘you’ve known me for four years.’

‘yes.’

‘that is my normal.’

‘yes, but we’re working on making it your abnormal.’

‘well, that’s not working too well since i almost had a stroke over not responding to my angry bosses email that i never even actually got.’

‘yes, i’m interested in the outcome of that.’

‘angry boss never sent it to me. i got blamed for not answering an email i never got.’

‘tough life.’

‘yes. exactly like dating the alcoholic.’

‘or working for anna wintour.’

‘yeah, except wintour has loads more style.’

‘than the ex?’

‘no. than my angry boss. well, and the ex.’

‘how is the alcoholic ex?’

‘non-ex istant.’

‘incredible use of the letters ex.’

Flash smile, say; ‘there’s no interest in the alcoholic donkey now.’

Therapist says; ‘so the new donkey is working out then?’

‘she’s not a donkey, she’s a surf clam.’

Therapist stares.

Stare back.

Therapist says; ‘we’re moving away from farm animals now?’

‘yep. i figure now that i’m on the eastern seaboard which is situated so closely to the ocean that i should shed my farm roots and take on a seafaring kind of thing.’

‘it’s your party.’

‘so what should i do about my angry boss?’

‘as far as what, your obvious miscommunications and opposite business styles?’

‘yes.’

‘well, i would try and work on better understanding how angry boss conveys information and adjusting accordingly…..or winning the lottery.’

‘oh! i like the second choice!’

‘of course you do.’

‘but angry boss is crazy. how am i supposed to understand a crazy person?’

‘how did you manage dating one for six years?’

‘i ate a lot.’

‘how’d that work out for you?’

‘i got fat.’

‘that tends to happen when you eat a lot.’

‘and i drove angry.’

‘as opposed to now?’

‘now…i have a hybrid. crazy driving isn’t an option.’

‘you sold the loud red thing did you?’

‘yes, its time had come.’

‘how’s the new car?’

‘it’s ok, but i’m a little miffed that it tells me to put on my seat belt and when i should shift and it turns my lights on for me even if i don’t want them on and when i’m done driving it draws little flowers on the screen to tell me how fucking green i was.’

‘how green are you.’

‘i’m red, mostly.’

‘no surprise there.’

‘right?!’

‘our time is up. it’s been a pleasure.’

‘yeah, thanks for your advice, what little you did actually dispense.’

‘you’re welcome. keep smiling. the new you is quite a pleasure to have around.’

‘thank the surf clam.’