A few posts ago, I mentioned my upcoming therapy session. My doctor, concerned that this whole cancer business might be a bit much to handle, suggested that I talk to someone. Well, my appointment came and went, and it was decidedly uneventful.
I talked for 45 minutes, about nothing particularly exciting — cancer, relationships — before the therapist handed me a pamphlet about sexual health and sent me on my way. (Just FYI, there’s a difference between lubricants and moisturizers.)
my brain -- not on therapy
Maybe I’m a psychotherapy misfit or maybe I just don’t have serious enough problems, but I found myself kind of bored throughout the entire session. It could be that therapy just isn’t for me, because while I was chatting away, I couldn’t help but feel like there was some tortured soul out there who could put the doctor’s time to better use.
And vice versa.
Homegirl feigned interest in my relatively-issue-free life probably because she was getting paid to, but then with 15 minutes left on the clock, she started wrapping me up. She took a phone call from her receptionist about the next appointment, started rifling through papers — all clues that I needed to get my things and go. I scheduled another appointment when she asked only because it felt awkward not to. But I doubt I’ll be going back.
It’s a shame, too, because I feel like I’m missing out on some serious bragging rights. I really want to be one of those people who drop phrases like “my shrink said” in random conversations. Can you say instant respect? No doubt people would come to the conclusion that I’m either really smart or at the very least interesting enough to warrant psychoanalyzing.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I believe in the power of therapy. I was seriously open to the idea of some stranger probing my mind until I said something deeply personal that might reveal some latent self-loathing. But, as my good friend and editor Natalie Moore always says, my plan was foiled.
Add to my disappointment that the aforementioned disengaged therapist didn’t even have a dope office. Nothing in her space said “psycho” or “therapy.” No comfy couch, no relaxing artwork. I sat in a desk chair while she sat at her computer.
I told a handful of people about my therapy outing (of course, most of them have shrinks they love and have been seeing for years), and they all said the same thing: Finding the right therapist is like finding the right relationship.
Uhm, that sounds like a lot of work on my part, and I don’t think I’m ready to make that kind of commitment right now. Plus, as you may remember from earlier posts or perhaps this entire blog, cancer is taking up a lot of my time these days.
I think I’m in need of some sort of side-piece shrink. You know, somebody I can see quickly in between working and bar-hopping. Then maybe we can talk about taking it to the next level.
After all my excitement, though, I’m still shrink-less. And waiting for the right one.
Peace Chana,
This was a great one. I have seen a “shrink” and find him to be really good. Hope you find your “side-piece”.
I agree with you totally on this — I went to one shrink several years ago and spent the whole session puzzled about how her head was so large and her body so small, and also, how she could possibly be smarter about me than I was about me. but it IS all about finding the right relationship, or rather the right shrink to have that relationship with but that IS a lot of work. I’ve thought about doing the work and finding the right shrink but don’t ever get farther than just the thought.
Now I am confused about the whole thing. What’s the difference between a therapist, psychiatrist, a psychotherapist and one who drives the looney bin?
For a good explanation, see..
http://www.nhscareers.nhs.uk/details/Default.aspx?Id=290
Gyrl, you’re crazy!
Great piece!
Oh, the puns!
Grrrrl, stop! A “side-piece shrink?” LMAO! Better to be shrink-less than be with a side piece that just gives you drama.
Well you know I’m studying to become a psychologist
I would ask about the difference between the lubricants and moisturizer, but I may need to pass on that one.
Great post and so real. Imagine my dilemma. I should probably be seeing a therapist too, for all of your same reasons. But ummmmm I am a therapist too! So while I torture myself with my own issues, I wonder if its worse that I can’t seem to “cure” myself…..can I tell a therapist that?
It may not be you, Chana, but rather the therapist you saw. There’s good, bad and mediocre in all professions. If you feel you could benefit from a therapist, I urge you to spend time looking for a competent one.
Great article Chana,
Although I realize I have not gone through what you have experienced living with cancer and winning the battle, I must say that I feel that you are your own best “shrink”. Your writings express so much of your emotions and about your experiences in such clarity that it appears to me you are in a healthy emotional state with it all that you are dealing with. It seems to me the only issue that you may need to continue to consult or perhaps experiment in is finding the right lubricant or moisturizer… I hear they come in delicious flavors now and some that even have a warming sensation. I can’t give tell you much more than that, as I’ve been celibate for a couple year (my info is only from viewing the commercials-LOL!!!!) Be Blessed!!!
Liked the whole side piece thing. Fun-E.
Kewl you should come up with that. Exclenlet!