Therapy

To all the therapists I've loved before who now belong on someone else's couch...

Several years ago I found myself in the unfortunate position of searching for a therapist. I made a list of questions, set up appointments and conducted interviews like nobody's business. Because if there is any business that needs interviewing, it is nobody's.

The first one was a man. He listened carefully to my questions and my basic information. When I told him I had a compulsion to eat glass and dance on lawn mower blades, he asked, "Do you think that is harmful?"

Well, yeah. Next.

The second was a woman. Older. Gray hair. Experience with life and lawnmowers. Yet, we stumbled around like dentures in the dark. At the end of our hour she sort of looked at me and said,

" What shall we do? How shall we leave this?"

It reminded me of a date gone wrong. Very wrong.

I answered, "I will call you."

And we both knew that I wouldn't be calling her. Ever.

You never want to hear your therapist say:

10. I would like to share my personal experiences with you. Get comfortable.
9. It took me a long time to save box tops for this license.
8. Could we cut this short today? I want to watch General Hospital.
7. Do you ever dream about me?
6. May I borrow your cell phone? I am over my minutes this month.
5. Here's a little haiku I wrote...
4. I am feeling a bit depressed this week. Do you think we could talk about me?
3. Luke, I am your father.
2. Does this hangnail look infected?
1. Buddy me. My screen name is ShrinkWrapHottie.