How to Get Better Drugs From Your Therapist, Or Maybe Almost Committed.
I have a standing appointment every three months to see my therapist.
You know, to talk about my feelings AND OMG YES I ABSOLUTELY NEED A REFILL FOR ALL MY PRESCRIPTIONS THANK YOU!
It was all going according to plan.
I’d convinced her I was over the pregnancy sad, my anxiety was under control, and I was doing really well.
Then, I was all, “Oh, you want to see pictures of the boys?”
As I dug my iPhone out of my cracker crumbs-pacifier-unwrapped tampon filled purse, she walked over and sat beside me on the couch.
I opened Photos and began scrolling through my 3,000 pictures.
Of course, my temperamental iPhone picked that exact second to freeze.
And, for the next few moments, we both sat staring in silence at this fabulous Yeti-spread.
Just like that, all my progress in therapy went to shit.
Diagnosis: Crazy Cat Lady.