Useless Therapy, Inexact Metaphors, And What A Vacation Can’t Fix

Well, I did it. I woke up on time for my therapy appointment. I was barely coherent and had to spend the first ten minutes of my appointment time drinking an energy drink in order to be cogent enough to get some use out of the session, but then my sessions with this therapist (long story, but this is not my usual therapist) are typically only thirty of our forty-five minute appointments since they’re usually late and we usually wrap up a few minutes early. Which, in this case, means that I wasn’t late and had myself mostly together by the time they showed up. Sessions with this therapist are useful if I can stay focused, but my mind tends to wander once I get talking, so they tend to be really hit or miss. It’s generally fine to wander through topics with a therapist, unless you’re there to talk about something specific. Unfortunately, I’m seeing this therapist for something specific and, because of the way the organization they work for is set up, I see them once every five or six weeks for each of these incredibly short sessions (every other therapist I’ve seen has involved hour-long appointments). I’ve honestly thought about ending these sessions since I’m not sure how beneficial they are these days, but I’m also pretty sure I don’t need LESS therapy in my life. After all, it’s not like things are getting any better in the world. I mean, I spent today’s (the day I’m writing this) entire session talking about the medications I’m on, how I’m handling the stress of living in this day and age, and never quite got around to the stuff I’m seeing them for. I mean, to be fair, I have a LOT of history and given that I see this therapist about nine times a year, I’ve only just sorta mostly gotten through the details of said history, so any tangent I go on to talk about stuff happening in my life today usually requires a few additional tangents in order to provide them with necessary context.

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