And there you have it….. My summerSHINES analysis of most therapeutic exchanges I have with my psychologist lady.

I actually enjoy therapy, as well as at times despising every second of it.

Nobody wants to be in the spotlight really where therapy is concerned. Having the sole focus of discussion being on yourself and everything you aren’t quite ‘getting’ yet being pointed out it is emotionally tough. The irony is you have to be tough to have therapy.

The therapy I have is not just “there there” therapy…sympathetic “poor you” type counselling with no onus on actual change. The therapy I have is fairly hardcore, although my therapists stance is one of compassion. She is quite tough with me.. but I know she needs to be, and I know it’s that awful parental phrase but it’s true. ..”it IS in my best interests.” My therapist is working in my best interests. She protects me when I don’t have the good sense to protect myself. She makes me consider things from alternative angles, reducing the rigidity of my borderline black and white, night and day thinking.

I am a less impulsive beast now with the aid of therapy. She’s doing a bloody good job at helping me. I never tell her…but I think she knows. I hope she does anyway.

I showed her the sharpie drawing I’d done pre-therapy…she only commented on the fact I’d drawn her hair very fuzzy…πŸ˜‚ I replied that my stick figure people were never intended to be a true likeness of us Lol.Β She also said she is not the clever psychologist that I call her…that I actually have a very similar knowledge base to her in terms of the trauma/abuse/neurological BPD stuff. Hurray! If only I was paid the same as her for having the same knowledge base!

I really need to find a source of income. I’ll add that to my long wishlist.

Being happy though is about appreciating what you have in the present…I am wearing my favourite slouchy jogging bottoms and the dressing gown that belongs to my husband so I’m cosy after my warm bath. I have two cutie dogs nuzzling me with their wet noses in search of strokes and belly rubs. I have a 8 year old that just read out to me a story she had wrote at school about my little ponies πŸ˜πŸ’— I have a 10 year old that is blossoming in front of my eyes into a proper young lady with a wicked personality. I have a husband cooking tea for us all…I’m a shit cook. We complement each other well πŸ˜‚ He’s the chef. I’m the….I dunno what I am. I’m the person in the family that is the quirky one…but interesting I hope.

Last night someone online (a total knobber) referred to me as “attention seeking” and “provocative” in what I post, criticising me for posting too much and disobeying social media etiquette.

He made out his criticism was “to help me”…Personally I think the patronising twonk should ride off on the high horse he rode in on 😊

So…that’s my day…that’s me…

6 days till I re-enter the therapeutic coffin of doom again….

Can’t bloody wait ;)


No unauthorised reproducing please without permission. I purposefully include rubbish backgrounds of dressing gowns etc when I photograph the drawings to make it less copyable haha ;) X