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The Army Forced Me to Quit Therapy
To prove I’m mentally fit to travel with my husband overseas, I had to give up the helpful person who was paid to listen to me bitch incessantly about what a crap year this was. Thanks a lot, army.
Real talk, I was a therapy skeptic for most of my life. The first time I tried it, at the urging of well-intentioned friends, I ended up ghosting my therapist. After three sessions, I had found my way to being at peace with my current ridiculous love life issues, and she had the audacity to say, “Well, if you’ve got everything so figured out, why are you here?” Ummm…to figure this stuff out? Then she suggested that I have issues with authority and that we should work on our therapist-client relationship, since in this context, she was in a position of authority.
I was like, fuck you lady YOU HAVE NO POWER OVER ME, and I never saw her again.
OF COURSE, I have issues with authority. What reasonable human being doesn’t?
Cut to 2022: After years of resistance to the very idea of therapy — I’m fine, I tell you, I’m FINE! —…
