When I think of the therapists I’ve had, I’m beginning to think of The Therapist as just one of them, except that he’s problematic. He wasn’t good at emotionally regulating, and the emotional cost of his help was way too high. You know it’s bad when thinking of him makes me feel so ashamed that I want to carve his name into my arm with a fucking knife, so when I see it I’ll be reminded to choose better. Do you want another weak man to hurt you again. No? Then just choose better.
I think I don’t know how to choose better. I thought I was careful when I found him and chose well. He helped me a lot. I didn’t consider that he’d be cold and abandon me like that.
Excuse me, hopeful sappy self, it’s your smarter self here. Yes, he did help you a lot. Up until he emotionally killed you. I guess you’re one of those stupid women who has to be hurt a million times before she gets that she should stop being stupid.
I’m not stupid because someone was mean to me.
You’re the one picking these fucking losers. Of all the counselors in Virginia, you picked him, and he got sick of you and broke up with you exactly like a toxic boyfriend and you weren’t even in a real relationship with him. It’s so fucking pathetic. He’s an asshole and you’re pathetic.
Thanks for the kind words, angry judgmental self.
You’re welcome. Let me know if you decide to hurt yourself. I’m creative. It won’t be boring.
Fuck you.
And fuck that random emotionally cruel therapist that I used to know.