What is it with my Therapist? When we first met, my only concern was for his reliability. It might have been his very – and I mean VERY – laid back manner or his general scruffy appearance, but while we got on brilliantly, something raised questions about his professionalism and his suitability to facilitate weekly therapy sessions with so many different people.
At the beginning of the therapy programme, Paul suddenly had three weeks off due to a stiff neck. The cause was an inappropriate desk and chair in his office. The Department never did implement the changes.
I had a sneaky suspicion there were office politics going on and it might result in more time off. I wondered why he didn’t attempt to improve his own seating arrangement rather than continue to jeopardise more sick leave.
What really fuelled my irritation today was a text message from the Department saying,
What? Again? It could not have come at a worse time… I’ve reached a crucial stage in therapy.
Since therapy started, sessions have been working through all that crap from childhood to arrive at where I am today… ready to talk about ME, ready to “observing the feelings.” I anticipated this week to be a milestone in that process.
These last few days have been tough. The depression is at a low point. ‘The feelings’ are simmering beneath the surface, waiting for guidance and ultimate release.
In situations like this, I try to think of a “higher reason,” some things are just not meant to be. Maybe the absence will materialise as positive, but all the same… Tut!