I don’t hate The Therapist’s boss. Sometimes I almost do because she took his side. And because sometimes I wish she had saved me, back early on when I started before I could get hurt.
I like to think she didn’t know. I think that because I can’t picture a business woman like her not caring if a therapy relationship blows up into utter destruction.
I hate The Therapist’s boss because he hated me first for what seems like no reason to hate someone.
I hate him because he’d rather ignore me and sue me than admit he did a bad job and hurt me.
Because me getting hurt is always my fault. That’s the lesson he taught me. I’m to blame just like I’m to blame when my ex husbands and boyfriends get upset.
Maybe I was a sacrifice. The Therapist had to get his practice hours to get licensed. Of course he got licensed easy. He could’ve killed me and still have gotten licensed because the therapy community knows clients are everywhere and losing them doesn’t hurt for long. We’re easy to replace with new clients. I think his boss didn’t save me because I didn’t matter.