My inconsistency is at least consistent, right?
So I went to my therapist this morning for my monthly maintenance appointment. She is terrific and I always feel better after I see her, but I dread going. I had random anxiety dreams last night and will look for any reason to cancel. Really, who wants to get in there and start digging around in the muck on a lovely Saturday morning when I would much rather be sitting at home on the couch with my coffee and Fake*book?
Anyhoo, J. MAKES me go and so I do and he's right (he's always right) and then I feel better and I don't have to go back until next month!
I didn't think I had much to talk about with her this morning and had planned to just bitch and moan about my job and how THEY make me miserable and THEY all suck and are incompetent and stoopid ... and what does she do? She turns it around to talk about ME and how can I make changes in myself to better handle the craziness that I encounter in that unholy nuthouse. What?? the?? eff?? It's not about me, it's about them. THEM, I tell ya. What am I paying her for? Work on myself? I don't think so. Yeesh, where did she get her degree??