To Pissy For Therapy?

I thought that it would be a good move on my part to start going to therapy. So there is a man at the church I have been going to, that is a licensed therapist. I was so proud of myself for taking yet another step on the road to healing!! I know that I have many issues that need addressing. I also know I need to let go and forgive things that happen in my past. So with my head held up high I walk in to this small, musty smelling house that sits across from my church. Having not met my new therapist I had no idea what to expect. As soon as I walk in the front door I was ushered into another small room and was told to shut the door until he (my therapist)  comes and gets me. I am sitting in this folding chair with high hopes of healing. How wrong I was. Within a few minutes my therapist ( lets call him Bob) comes and gets me. Bob ushers me into another small room, I have a seat and Bob excuses himself. With in minutes he is back with a small brown sack.

There was a lot of build up for me to even walk into this kind of situation. Like I said I know I needed it, but could I do it? I had two fears; One was that because this was a christian setting I would be told that I needed to work things out with my "husband", the other was I had no idea where to start? When you have as much shenanigans in your life as me, there is no good starting place. Friends assured me that Bob would start the conversation and everything else would fall in place. Well, that was a load of BOLOGNA!!

With small brown sack in hand Bob takes his seat across from me and asks, " Well Tiffany, why are you here?" REALLY!?!? I calmly say that I have no idea where to start. With a snort Bob declares he hears that a lot. You think? I found myself now looking around for some sort of certificate or diploma. I begin to dive in to my white trash story of my husband. How we started, what happen, and now the end. Few questions are asked, though I noticed that when Bob spoke he never would look at me. Half way through my explanation to why I am here he interrupts me to ask if I mind if he has a snack. Apparently Bob hasn't eaten since 5:30. What am I going to say that? " No Bob. I feel that is highly unprofessional." COME ON! As Bob finish his yogurt I continue my story. I was talking about friends and how they are trying to be supportive of my decision on leaving my husband. Bob asks " Why do your friends feel it is the right thing for you to leave him?" Ummm, HELLO? Have you been listening to to what I am saying or was your yogurt to delicious for you to pay attention? Maybe this is my problem- Am I to bitchy for therapy? I respond " Because that's what I want". Bob nods.

After my story comes to an end there is nothing but silence. I didn't know if I made him bored and maybe he fell asleep with his eyes open. Or maybe he was dumb founded. I go with the latter and say " I know, I have some issues." Bob laughs and says, "Yes, You do." For the next five minutes Bob is talking. Though I can't tell you a damn word the man said. I was to hung up over how the hell you can do this for a living when you can't even look your patient in the eyes when speaking to them. Next thing I know my time is up and I have an appointment for next week. I get to my car and wonder, what the hell just happen.

I decide to give it one more chance. I show up for my second session knowing if this doesn't go better I won't be back. I am going to make this part short for you. Bobs snack this time was a nice sandwich on whole wheat. I was interrupted at one point with Bob telling me that what I was saying wasn't important and he didn't want to talk about that. And lastly, with 20 minutes left of my session Bob looks at me and says " Are we done?" Why yes BOB! We are done.

Needless to say I didn't go back this week.

This is my new form of therapy! :)