I need to take a day or two break from my “washing machine” story because I spent some time writing it today and it is turning into a twenty page emotional mess about all sorts of topics — manhood, my father, film school, Sears customer service, sexuality, and Diet Coke. And the story isn’t funny at all. I think my two weeks of therapy is already screwing with my mind, making me more emotionally unstable than when I first walked in there.
Yesterday, during my second therapy session, I talked to my new therapist about my blog, and now I’m feeling a little self-conscious for even bringing it up. What if she’s reading it? Why is it OK that my mother reads my blog, but knowing that my therapist is reading “Citizen of the Month” is giving me performance anxiety?
During our session:
Therapist: “Is it like MySpace?”
Neil: “No, it’s a regular blog.”
Therapist: “And what do you write about?”
Neil: “Just different stuff.”
Therapist: “Interesting And how do people find you?”
Neil: “If you search my name you could easily find it. Uh…”
Therapist: “What?”
Neil: “No, nothing. I just didn’t expect to be talking about my blog. It’s not… well, I guess it IS a big part of my life. It’s just sometimes I write some fantasy stuff. Sex stuff. It’s all in good fun. Just in case you ever read it, you should know, it’s not really me. Well, it IS me. It’s just that I even… (nervously) ha ha… wrote a post about you… uh, imagining you before the first session… and… uh…”
Therapist: “You did?”
Neil: “Well, I have this gimmick, where… you see, I talk to my Penis, and…”
The therapist made a notation in her book. And then underlined it.
Anne Kahle — is this the long lost Anne Arkham?
I told my therapist about my blog, and then had the same freakout you did. I came in the next time and told her I’d feel more comfortable if she did not try to look it up.
Her reaction was very honest; she looked truly surprised and said she would never do that; that the only things she delved into were the things I chose to bring in to her in our sessions together. Everything else was my private life. In fact, she said she very distinctly did NOT want to be doing extra research on patients in her free time. (I mean, after all, she doesn’t get paid for that, does she?)
It made me feel a lot better to hear that, and I don’t believe she’s ever read my blog (except for anythign from it I brang in to read to her). I don’t know if that’s helpful to you or not, but I found addressing my concerns openly and requesting what I wanted from her to be a big help in calming my fears about it.
Also, in my experience, therapy always feels worse before it feels better. You gotta expect the first few months to be an emotional whirlwind. But if you feel it’s emotional, even if hard, in a good way–like it’s *getting* you somewhere, then you’re on the right track.
Hang in there!
Thanks Miss Syl!
You’re quite welcome. And forgive the use of “brang.” WTF? I just noticed it when I re-read. I’m all strung out on cold medicine right now; that’s the only reason I can think of for such strangeness–the word’s not even part of my regional dialect, for god’s sake.
Neil, you know how I adore your talking Penis! I told you – to the back of your head when we were driving around LA – remember? Your therapist will learn to love him too. I can’t believe I am sitting alone in my study on this humid morning in Philly laughing out loud at this post. The perfect second therapy session post I have ever read …
“The therapist made a notation in her book. And then underlined it.” HHAA!! Neil!! Run Neil! Run!
Thank you, that made me burst out laughing…
Neil, it was great meeting you the other night. Truly. I felt like I had known you for AT LEAST 10 minutes before I actually met you. And I hope to be lucky enough to hang out with you again soon. And not just at the urinals. And if you have any pointers for me regarding my reading, I’d love to hear them…I know that I should’ve only read one story…and that I should’ve slowed down a bit…and I should’ve worn a sweat band and packed my crack with paper towels because of perspiring so much. But any other suggestions would be lovely.
You were going to tell me about the paper towels, weren’t you?
Therapy eh? Sometimes you just feel bad before you feel better!!
Thinking about you.
Hi Neil,
The only bad thing about therapy is that when it works, you lose your sense of humor. Like John Cleese.
Dates Bubbas — I don’t know if you are being serious or not, but I actually do worry about that.
Neil! You will *never* lose your sense of humor!
Neil,
Be honest with your shrink. You won’t loose your funny you will gain peace of mind!