Waiting Room

I’m sitting in the waiting room while my daughter sees her therapist. This will give everyone the opportunity to see how terrible my texting skills are . Thank God for spellchecker.

It occurred to me that I hadn’t posted in a while. Thought I’d take advantage of this blissful 50 minutes or so; all alone. Ever notice how therapists charge you for a one hour session but the session never really lasts a full hour?

I have three sessions under my belt of seeing my own therapist. I’m at that point where I start questioning why I’m going, what are they doing for me that is worth the cost, when are they going to delve into anything real to me, why is she asking me only about the present, doesn’t the past matter….the questions are endless. I will likely only go once more before calling it quits.

I am having a difficult time putting into words exactly where I am right now. Nearly started crying in frustration at work today. I forgot to notify the school that my daughter had to leave early for this appoinment. She calls; freaking. I call husband; he freaks because he can’t leave to go pick her up. (I also forgot to tell him about the appointment.) I’m in the middle of an important and time sensitive task. I am told someone is on hold for me on the phone.

F’it. I’ll just tell my boss I’m not feeling well and leave for the day.

So…..here I am. In the waiting room. 30 minutes down. Less than 30 to go.

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