Thursday, August 4, 2011

480. Why I Am A Bad Therapy Patient

When I was in my 20’s, I was going through a rocky time so I decided to seek out a therapist. Oh, boy, was that a mistake. Here, listen in:

Me: So that’s the deal. What do you think I should do?

Therapist: What do YOU think you should do?

Me: Uh, I don’t know. That’s why I’m here. What should I do?

Therapist: My role, MOV, is to help you find the answers within yourself. What path are you leaning toward?

Me: No idea. What are the choices?

Therapist: What do YOU think the choices are?

Me: Uh, I dunno. Can you give me a hint?

Therapist: (long uncomfortable silence while she looks at her watch)

Me: I said, I’m not sure what to do. What would you do?

Therapist: What I would do is irrelevant. It’s what you will do that matters.

Me: I want to know what you would do.

Therapist: We all make our own choices.

Me: Sure … but I want to make the choice you recommend.

Therapist: I recommend following your heart.

Me: As opposed to my head?

Therapist: Follow your head, too.

Me: My heart and head are saying different things.

Therapist: Follow both.

Me: Then I will be cheating on my head with my heart?

Therapist: (shifts in seat, shifts back)

Me: So what should I do?

Therapist: What do you want to do?

Me: I want to strangle you for charging me 100 bucks an hour and not giving me an answer!

Therapist: What are you so angry about?

Me: I’m angry that I don’t know what to do!

Therapist: Oh, look, time’s up. That will be $100 cash or check, please. No insurance plans accepted.

I felt like I was on some sort of reality show where they answer every question with a fortune cookie: “The key is within your line of vision—you know what you should do.”

Duh! I don’t know what I should do! If I knew what to do, would I be in therapy?

In an effort to reduce expenditures, I eliminated therapy from my budget. I replaced it with alcohol. My new mantra: “A great bottle of wine is still cheaper than an hour of bad therapy.”

(“Mistress Of Vino”)


  1. Indeed. I opt for coffee & chocolate - it's cheaper than therapy! Have you seen the GEICO commercial with the drill sergeant therapist? That's the type of therapist I'd be. :)

  2. Wine is cheaper and it doesn't tick you off. Win-win!

  3. Sounds like you're a little ticked at her because she wouldn't take responsibility for you (ie" tell you what she would do). Therapy is working though a problem, not getting another to tell you what to do. I imagine she looked at her watch as "oh, here's another one who doesn't want to take charge of her life." Her not telling you what to do is so invaluable. You're a smart woman, I cannot imagine that you do not see that.

  4. Taylor,

    I think you would be my favorite kind of therapist, or at least co-patient!


    Win-win, indeed!


    Why anonymous? your name is not really Dr. Tara, is it? And you are wrong that I was a "little ticked at her" ... I was a LOT ticked at her! Hey, if I had bags of money laying around the house, I would love to pay someone to listen to all my problems (real or imagined) all day long. But, Queen Virgo is unfortunately--this might come as a shock to you-- not rich (not to mention that she is also an instant-gratification kinda girl), so wine it is.

    Thank you for the "smart woman" compliment. At age 40+, I realize I have most of the answers myself now, but remember I am talking about the 20-something me. Thank you again for your comments.


  5. When my husband and I were in pre-marital counseling we had a conversation that went like this:

    Therapist: And how does that make you feel when you're treated like that, Mat?

    Mat: It makes me mad.

    Therapist: Okay, good. Now, go deeper.

    Mat: It makes me really mad.

    hahahahahahaha to this day I'll still ask him to go deeper anytime he tells me he's mad!

  6. oh Mary Mary Mary and the Mat with one "t". Girlfriend, I love you more than your blog (which is pretty friggin hilarious by the way). And now I get a little dose of your sharp wit on my blog too! It is like accidentally getting $80 out of the ATM for free when you only typed in $20 and then not even getting charged for it! (oops, you do work for a bank don't you? uh, I totally returned the money when that happened to me that one time. Honest.)



When you write a comment, it makes me feel like I won the lottery or at the very least like I ate an ice-cream sundae. (This has nothing to do with the fact that I did just eat an ice-cream sundae.)