Thursday, May 10, 2012

Soul Sertraline

I don't think my therapist likes me.

I think this may be a problem.

My suspicions began several weeks ago, when she informed me that the reason I have not yet found my soulmate is because I dress too provocatively. I reached full-blown paranoia today when she insinuated that my sexuality was the problem.

Couple these personal attacks with her inability to remember what we covered the week before, or the homework she has assigned me, or who is who in my life...and I think we can say that everything (aside from who I am or am not boning, of course) is low on her priority list.

In some ways, I suppose I should be flattered. I've never had someone--outside of my grandmother--so interested in the *apparently* revolving door that is my bedroom. Overwhelmingly though, I am put off. Rather than addressing MY issues, I feel that every trip to her couch is, instead, an opportunity for her to hurl her insecurities at my stilettos and sundresses.

I like the way I look. And I consider myself to be someone who, with a few exceptions, holds herself to high standards. I'm not a partier. Nada drugs. Nada affairs. Usually in bed by 11... But it seems some people just can't be satisfied until you live your life their way.

Knowing this actually makes me feel a little more healthy. It takes a good deal of self actualization to feel comfortable in one's own skin. And if my comfort makes someone else uncomfortable...well, that's something they can take up with their therapist.

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