(no subject)

"He's become one with his inner self!"

"He's passed out."

"Yes, that too."

"I ... don't mean to alarm you, but your pants are talking to you. Yes, you're a busy man. So I'll let you and you... pants get back to your business, and I'll get back to mine..."

*gales of laughter*

I'd forgotten some of these. Gems, priceless the lot of them. And off to the shrink I go. Wooba?

(no subject)

About a week ago, I got a letter from Omni, the clinic where my psych/therapy is dealt with. Effective the first of this month, they'd hired in two new therapists. I'd been assigned, after being without a therapist at all since the beginning of February, to Suzanna... who actually had a decade of experience with GID clients. Given the chaos with the physical therapy, I'd let them know I'd try and schedule appointments when I was in for my monthly prescription session with the psych... which was today.

...

Suzanna's leaving Omni. Thirteen days in she's already scrambled to find another job, and she's gone effective the end of this month. Once again I've been relegated to 'unassigned' status, this time having only met the therapist once for just long enough to be told she was clearing her appointments and leaving.

But I don't need a therapist, right? I can just sit here behind my console, take my pile of pills like a good little soldier, and watch attentively as things continue to not change no matter how much effort, need, or desperation I pour into the mix.

That's the way it's supposed to be, right?