At first Grog was a little nervous. Needlessly. Did you know that it's not like on tv? I didn't lie back on a couch while she doodled in a notepad.
So I went walking in there, drinking my coffee because coffee is a vital part of my day (but only in the hours between waking up and going to sleep). I filled out the seemingly 40 page long questionnaire wherein I wouldn't have been surprised if they'd asked for a copy of my genealogy records. And I wait. And wait. And wait a little more. By now I was thinking that people need therapy just to get over the torture of waiting to see the doctor.
I go up to the little sliding window and listen to it creak open as the receptionist asks if she can help me.
"Yes, I'm sorry but I was wondering how long until I see the doctor?" Well, turns out only five minutes has passed. Oh. Oops. Sure seemed a lot longer, I swear.
Sweat is already starting to build on my forehead as I wait for this lady to transpose all my info into the computer. On the outside I tried to seem cool but on the inside I was thinking "what happens when I walk through that door? What if I find out I'm crazy?"
Even worse, what if I end up with tear ducts? I've always been good with not being a sensitive guy. What if they break that and I start liking romantic comedies and stuff? Next thing you know I'll be complimenting people on their shoes or something. What if they therapy the Grog out of me?
Well, as it turns out, it's pretty painless. In fact, I was free to pace around the room as I talked. The words just flowed. It really was like talking to a friend. I mean, we didn't sit around talking about movies or anything but we got along pretty well.
I'm a naturally honest person and try to look at things objectively so that helped, I think. I was willing to look at things from her perspective and from the perspectives she suggested. I wasn't real happy about having to fully admit that I may have been wrong about a couple things but, hey, I can't always be right.
I now have weekly sessions scheduled. For the next 6 months, (maybe longer, depends on when I can sell my truck), I'll be doing many of them over the phone. That should make it easier because then I can eat during class. I'll be able to hide in my mobile cave as I tell the good doctor my feelings. Maybe it'll help make things better because feelings don't belong in my cave.
Am I going to be the perfect person after this? No. That'll never happen. But hopefully I'll be able to re-establish my self-worth like my therapist wants me to do. As frugal as I am I was worried about wasting hundreds of dollars every week on a therapist. Now I'm looking forward to my weekly sessions and see it as an investment. And that Doctor lady? She doesn't scare Grog at all.
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