Imagine paying into an insurance system so that middle aged cat ladies can talk to each other for 100 dollars an hour
clown world :D
That time I was distressed, is what brought me here. I was looking for a head doctor so I called one. The lady herself answered. I said "I need help ! I'm really fucked up over here and I..." She interrups with attitude "My rate is $240 an hour" The way she said it was like "give me money or fuck off vagrant"
The money wasn't an issue, it was at that point I realized only someone I respect can help me.
I ended up seeing a psychoanalyst who said they do cognitive therapy, but the whole time he seemed board and tried to get me to take the SSRI Zoloft. I ended up ditching and I did the work myself.
I honestly believe if we can't help ourselves, no one can. Yet at the same time, i think I'd be an excellent cognitive therapist.
I just can't help but perceive them as malicious. Pay money so they can record my thoughts on file and then probably try to put me on pills that will only make me more complacent to this evil.
I only trust Psycho-analysists. If I could go back in time and speak to Lacan I would.
I've tried, I have tried, old women who I can't even be honest with because the gap is so wide and I just can't bring myself to trust them or be honest with them. Doesn't help that their appearances made me see them as demonic. One of them who worked there that I never spoke there looked like George Bush Jr. Wearing a Fat Bitch Skin Suit because her face was like George Bush, with a layer of fat around it, the grey hair, then her fat body obviously
It doesn't matter, chaos is coming. I feel so strange. I was admittedly lamenting and weeping the other day while listening to
because all I could think about is how much I need to do, and how powerless I am, how disgusting and worthless I am, and that everything will go to shit and I wont be able to ever find or save the ones I love and I will devolve either into suicide, some sort of locked up catatonic state or become the monster I fear.