Chronicle wrote:
My therapist was... um... okay, I don't want to say "useless," because I'm sure somebody benefited from sessions with him. I, however, never did. Mostly, my dude talked to me about movies. I assume he had some motive, opening me up slowly or something like that, but no such thing actually happened.
Probably the best, though, was when he tried to diagnose me. "Jonathan, there's nothing REALLY wrong with you. Sure, I'll admit you're depressed, and you don't really like people, but... you're smart, okay? You're really, REALLY smart. And sometimes, really really smart people... they don't experience the world like... normal people do. You know?"
Yeah. Nice.
-C
And *they* have issues with transference. It's such a farce. Dude, let me tell you - there was never one shrink in my life that I wasn't in a position to therapize THEM. In almost all cases it turned out that way. I felt like sh*t doing that. I mean - come on - I'm there for therapizing - hello? I do NOT want to be ~your~ therapist - kindly refrain from acting so damn stupidly, basically turning me into YOUR shrink. )I'm saying *your* but it's the generic your - not you specifically

I just got so sick and tired of it - I could see right through them all. So predictable - I just gave up. There was one female therapist who I actually respected for being cool. I let her lead and I followed. I didn't think she needed to be shrunk so I let her be.

But the rest. Take down those diplomas. What a joke.
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Natives who beat drums to drive off evil spirits are objects of scorn to smart Americans who blow horns to break up traffic jams. ~Mary Ellen Kelly