This is an absolute laugh. The beginning of February I went to the Uni counsellor, because my doc had suggested it to me, along with prescibing my happy pills. Sort out the shit from the past and whatnot, so I don't have to rely on them pills forever.
Tell ya what. If those pills guarantee me happiness... or prevent me from slipping into mental hell again... I don't care if I have to take them for the rest of my life. But I digress.
I had my assessment session back then, which was freaky and mildly humiliating, making me question the value of any kind of such therapy. Textbook questions and only response if the answers matched their textbooks as well. No genuine compassion... but a put-on "Don't upset the nutcase"-voice. You feel like none of the stuff you are talking of makes any sense to them... and that they don't really tell you what they think. It was TOTALLY different from what I expected. It was degrading.
I hate the thought of having my mental works assessed and dissected like in a medical show and tell room.
Anyways, they just rang me back. I may ring now and make an appointment. *sarcasm*
It's been two effin months!
I hate the thought even more to be on someone's "to check off" list. Makes me feel objectified.
Maybe friends are the best therapists, cos they genuinely care. Milla and I just had a talk that made me understand a lot.
Or I am my best therapist because I know bloody well why I am the way I am. Why I react the way I do. I just don't know how to stop it.
I don't need analysis, I need a fuckin way out. Yessir, I know there is a dead tree blocking my drive. What I want is to know how to use the chainsaw to remove it.
Nobody could really give me an answer to that.
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