“Unwanted recurring experiences can be burned in the fire of awareness, determination, and optimism.” -unknown
I am quite certain my therapist hates me. Not like in a “she thinks I’m annoying” kind of way. In an actual “I hate this girl and can’t wait till her 50 minutes are up” kind of way.
When she comes out to get me from the waiting room, she has a fake smile. I know this, because I’ve seen her give a genuine smile to an old man in the waiting room. Her fake smile immediately makes me want to avoid talking. Once in her office, she doesn’t smile. She just stares at me and asks questions. My one word answers aren’t exactly what she’s looking for, so she begins to ask questions at a faster rate. I don’t know what her reason for this is, but she does it. Every time.
Maybe perhaps if she’d give me a genuine smile, I wouldn’t be so apprehensive about talking to her. Maybe if she actually listened to what I was saying, instead of staring at me with empty eyes asking question after question, I would open up and give her honest feedback. It’s been three weeks. I’ve seen her three times.
Today, she got down into my pit. She freakin’ chipped away at it with a hot poker. And she made me cry. I hate her. She made me say things I had never said. Ever. She forced me to have feelings that I always felt were unnecessary to have. And she made me cry more.
Then time was up. Right in the middle of a possible breakthrough. For the first time ever, I felt like I couldn’t leave her office without saying more words to her. I stopped her mid hallway, and broke down.
She saw me for another 50 minutes.
I still hate her.