unless you read between tan lines
i have an appointment with my “the rapist” today. finally. it was supposed to be march 4 they called and left a v mail saying it’s canceled and i was set to lose it on them, i’ve been waiting to see my guy since the summer. haven’t seen him since before i left the city, and my ex. the shrink’s head is going to turn right the fuck around when i fill him in on all that’s been asunder. he’ll be most pissed i’m smoking weed again. i could tell he was getting tired (bored) of me at the end of our sessions cos each one would be further and further apart. this typically happens to me with shrinks. i tell them my shit, they listen, then we discuss how smart i am yet how stubborn to make any sort of change in my life regarding how much i drink (drank). i said all of our friends drink. he said that’s because you surround yourselves with drinkers so it seems normal. uh, oh, uh, err, right. ok well we go (went) to lots of events where they fall all over themselves plying you with booze and swag, something every nite of the week practically. buh. anyway, i filled up a triple script of chill pills back then and slowly went through them. i don’t rely on them so much anymore because i’m not drinking insane amounts from moving over to weed, the hangover anxieties have lessened and lessened but then the anxiety came back from burlington stress so i was still pretty dependent on them. there’s a point in here somewhere (i am stoked to be getting a script today, essentially). i still have anxiety but it isn’t as bad i feel, i’m removed from stressful people/influences now. i went to bed nauseous and woke up as such every single day practically in burlington. i just wasn’t happy anymore and woke up miserable every fucking day. it wasn’t easy in the end there. ok this is just therapy practice now i bet if i take a deep breath i can pack in a quick summary of the past five months of my life to my therapist then deflate like a balloon in the chair. i could forward him every single news article about the past five months too but then he’d know my blog but i kinda do in a way want him to see it cos i get the feeling he thinks i am infuckingsane when i vaguely make mention of this pseudo-fame thing to my person like just go see for yourself ok but then i won’t be able to write about it here so i’m not going to share it afterall. half the therapist’s i’ve had have been privy to my blog and it fucks me up so i’m not going to do that again. whether they actually read it or not it will still change how i write about certain experiences. this blog is a psychiatrist’s wet dream. or nightmare.
speaking of swag, awesome bag from the spoke club we love toronto party. another pair of calvin klein’s this time hot pink and givenchy perfume, gave one of each to kamila. i’m about to have an affair with myself and the frizz-ease john frieda shamp/condish that came with said bag right now. also this weird face buffer exfoliator that’s strong enough a vibrator to make a trip to come as you are totally unness! except for that gallon pump jug of liquid silk ew when did things get all lewd in here it’s too early for this kind of talk.
someone came here by searching for SEXY NINJA TURTLES. did you find any?
speaking of vibrators.. embarrassing story to share with you. when we were moving we hired movers. i thought i had grabbed all my ‘fun’ things and put them in safe moving spots and/or garbage. (whatever was necessary). guy was moving my night stand.. i go in after he takes it out of the room. whats on the floor? only the fucking box my vibrator came in! all flattened and dusty from hiding under my nightstand. ugh. i just hope he didnt get a good look at it. ya right. i’m blushing thinking about it. then we had to spend the next 3 hours with these guys. but the stinky dump he took in our bathroom kind of balanced out the embarrassment for me. kind of.
bruuuutal! i brought a vibe with me to uk and was too chicken to fly back with it so i threw it in a trash can in rayne’s park, then went back and threw more garbage on top of it haha.
Good luck with your appointment, I hope he’s a good fit for you.
i hate to comment binge all over your blog, but your entries have been speakin’ to me lately. i had one therapist – on maitland and jarvis (therapist central, for whatever reason) – who would pretty much fight with me EVERY session for $200 bucks a pop. it was so horrible. then the therapist i saw after i quit that guy made weird masturbatory innuendos by session 4. discussion actually went like this:
me: i just lie in bed every day. some days i don’t even get out.
him: what do you do in bed? do you touch yourself? do you explore your body?
it sounds totally fictional, right? wrong! horrible. i saw an amazing one at christie station, but he wasn’t covered by my insurance, so yeah, it sucks. he had a sense of humour for a change! i would happily refer him to you.
oh, and least your mom didn’t find your vibe and didn’t come in to your room and conspicuously move it after setting down the laundry!!!
hes good hes quick hes brief hes free he provides scripts with no bullshit.
here is a diagnosis, free of charge; yer a mess. you do not notice that you are a mess because…well, because you are a mess. but it’s good you are down to only half a litre of booze a day from three full litres. congrats. gold medal in messery goes to…you.
oh im a mess because im honest. right. YAWN!! im a mess because im a mess boy that was lazy of you. do you know what? everyone is a mess. no one has it figured out. i’m merely online sharing my tales of life in-flux. i have never been so happy before.
oh my god, who is he? i need all of the things you said he was. Maybe I should email this ?
email me
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your therapist sounds like one who doesn’t challenge enough
Very hard to find a good one
Sometimes therapists have more problems then their patients
which leads to patient/shrink failure
It would be nice to find more available shrinks on the market
who don’t need therapy themselves
just saying from experience
and hope your next appointment is more real and fruitful
or its time to find a better fit
Atleast you GO Raymi. I have only done phone interviews… then they say “come to this place where you don’t know where it is to sit down and chat.”
I say “sure.” Then I don’t go.
Agoraphobia is such a piece of shit.
I have friends that say they’d go with me… wouldn’t that be a hoot. Ugh.
Isn’t a Dr. who prescribes meds (psychiatrist)much different than a therapist? My experience is the meds Doc just wants a quick summation only to see if the drugs are effective, balanced, etc. whereas a psychologist will go into your deep dark life with you and at some point refer you to the other (medication) doc. Either way it’s good to go.
psychiatrists are terrible therapists (and usually socially retarded). they’re not trained in therapy – only assessment and diagnosis and medication management. ask him which treatment modality he uses … i bet he doesn’t have one. clinical psychologists and clinical social workers (most) are better for therapy as they’ve received training and supervision around this. a real therapist wouldn’t let you go weeks/months between appts (unless it’s booster and maintenance after some intensive work). you’re either engaged in therapy or not.
i’m just saying this because so many people have bad experiences with psychiatrists or with therapists who aren’t good fits and they write off therapy altogether. you should be discovering something new about yourself in every session. sometimes it only takes one session. and yeah, i’m rambling and i’m biased ’cause i work in mental health and deal with these professionals every day and all day.
I agree with annbird
make the next appointment work for you
honesty is the only way to getting to a better place
I had a therapist who really was crazier than me once.
He kept going on about how feminism ruined his first marriage and the evils of Soviet Communism. Then he tried to get me to sell cleaning products in a pyramid scheme.
I wish I was making this up, but I’m not that creative.
Also, analamos, you’re a mess, I’m a mess, Raymi’s a mess, we’re all messes in our own little ways.
So what motherfucker?
loser from algonquin college who hasn’t even begun their life yet, go back to class you’re not welcome here.