… is that, when you use it to get to a Zumba class that you’re trying for the first time, and your ex-therapist walks in? That moment when you can bang your head gently against your steering wheel while intoning “oh god, oh no, oh god, oh no” is delayed for much too long. And the bus driver probably won’t let you use his steering wheel, even if you could explain why you needed it in Pfälzisch.
But I did enjoy the Zumba class. But I’m not sure if I can go back. Maybe I will go back. But I will definitely take the car.
Song du jour of the day: Running Up That Hill, by Placebo
So I broke up with my therapist, that’s a thing that happened. I was so freaked out about it, I actually googled for tips. The best of the results I found said that a healthy mature adult would discuss it honestly, but if you were that you wouldn’t be in therapy, so do what you need to do. So at the end of what turned out to be our last session, when she said when shall we meet again, I said actually I was thinking of stopping this now, and she said let’s take a break, you can call me back in a few weeks. So she actually deployed the Kafka Relationship Dissolver, not I, which is kinda weird, but whatever. I’m too avoidant to give it much more thought.
I didn’t call her back after three weeks. You probably guessed that. Continue reading