My counselor seems cool. He's older, kinda square-jawed. He gives off this vibe sorta like what television casting directors think dentists are like. So far I've been able to talk to him pretty freely, and he's been very accepting of the things he's heard.
He's also used the word "fuck" a lot more than I was expecting him too, but in a way it's created a sense of comfort between us.
I feel like I can work with him.
I feel like he can work with me.
At the same time, thus far there is a lot of shrugging off, a lot of "hey, these things happen." It seems like there's a lot of.. I don't know, minimizing of what has happened.
Well, maybe not minimizing, but more like there's a rational explanation for this thing you've done. More like moving on is more important than beating yourself up. And even though that makes sense, it's like I feel a need for the other side. I feel a need to catch some licensed hell for it. Maybe that part's still waiting in the wings, but for right now it's a little unsettling that it hasn't happened.
The other counselor is spunky, down to earth. She speaks in plain tones, leans on her hip when she sits, and ...also uses the word "fuck" quite a bit. There's an optimism to her voice that is in a way soothing, and it makes everything feel kind of hopeful. We've only met with her once so far, but it left a good impression.
Still, there's miles to go. Things that need to be uncovered, bled, sown, and re-planted.
...And it's hard.
Meeting these people once a week, or even once every two weeks leaves open ages of time to either put their advice to good use or build up material to talk about in the next session.
The waters are rough.
Sometimes it feels like the rain's never gonna end.
But I really do believe we can get through
He's also used the word "fuck" a lot more than I was expecting him too, but in a way it's created a sense of comfort between us.
I feel like I can work with him.
I feel like he can work with me.
At the same time, thus far there is a lot of shrugging off, a lot of "hey, these things happen." It seems like there's a lot of.. I don't know, minimizing of what has happened.
Well, maybe not minimizing, but more like there's a rational explanation for this thing you've done. More like moving on is more important than beating yourself up. And even though that makes sense, it's like I feel a need for the other side. I feel a need to catch some licensed hell for it. Maybe that part's still waiting in the wings, but for right now it's a little unsettling that it hasn't happened.
The other counselor is spunky, down to earth. She speaks in plain tones, leans on her hip when she sits, and ...also uses the word "fuck" quite a bit. There's an optimism to her voice that is in a way soothing, and it makes everything feel kind of hopeful. We've only met with her once so far, but it left a good impression.
Still, there's miles to go. Things that need to be uncovered, bled, sown, and re-planted.
...And it's hard.
Meeting these people once a week, or even once every two weeks leaves open ages of time to either put their advice to good use or build up material to talk about in the next session.
The waters are rough.
Sometimes it feels like the rain's never gonna end.
But I really do believe we can get through
[Listening to: Nothingface, "All Cut Up"]
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