Yes folks, we have a brand new song category.
Honestly I can’t think why it was so long coming, but it’s here, and about time too.
Because I’ve tried, you know? I’ve bowed, I’ve prayed, I’ve meditated. I’ve humbled myself, I’ve turned the other cheek, I’ve allowed myself to be dismissed, ignored, barked at, moved around like a living set piece, downgraded, but the final straw was today and now I want to take down the world.
Cos whilst I’ve been accepting of my new positioning in society, I expect a whole lot more from my shrink. Maybe I’ve been spoilt by Aunty C who treats me like a human being, but if these aunts think I’m going to be treated like a nonentity, they have another thing coming.
These last few days, I’ve kind of given up on everything. You get to the point you’ve been in that broken box at the bottom of a disused lift shaft so long, you do finally figure out that no one is coming, so the only thing to do is accept your fate. Even the sage and loving words of C did nothing to shake me out of this stance, but I did agree that I’d continue with the schema therapy.
Yesterday morning was to be my first one to one with Shrink No. 1. No matter that I was meant to go there come back then go back later that afternoon. What a pain in the arse.
Can we do it just before the group session?
No. 1 looked as surprised and irked as if one of his dissected lab rats had raised it’s damp disinfected head and asked him to go easy with that scalpel there.
Well can we do it on another date?
No. Same fixed stare. Lab rats don’t have rights and therefore don’t get to ask for flexibility.
I’m peeved, make no mistake about that. In my lowly, pitiful life, I still get to challenge, question, reason and yes, negotiate, but I urged myself to go along with it and accept these unspoken terms. What other choice did I have?
So he tells me when we’ll meet and then tells me three times that his assistant will text me confirmation.
But over the next week I hear nothing.
So the day before I text her and ask if it’s still happening.
Evidently lab rats aren’t expected to text either. I kind of get that as it would be pretty hard when your little paws are nailed to the bench, but I managed it and the fucking least she could have done was to respond. But nada.
So, with superhuman control on my part, I text her again, not to take her down for her rudeness, but to say that I would assume that it was no longer happening but if it was she needed to give me some notice.
Thence follows one of the grimmest 24 hours where all hope was gone and I wished hard that one of those angry ancient Gods would just raise his massive hand and smash this world to pieces, cos I have had enough.
I slept, ate a little, slept, drank wine, slept again.
I was awoken the next morning at 8:30am by a text message, and even in my hungover, stinking befuddled state, I just knew who and what it was and it was as if that evil hand had shrunk down, reached into my core and turned my tiny, barely flickering pilot light up to max.
“REMINDER: You have an appointment with Shrink No. 1 at 9:30 today in Outpatients. Please do not be late”
Oh man. That bitch wants to thank God that she never had to deliver that message in person as I would have ripped into her like a wounded, half starved cougar.
This. Arrangement. Is. Over.
And for your information, this is not open to negotiation. Us lab rats are not allowed that kind of freedom, remember?
I may have lost my therapy but I just got my power back.
Sorry Buddha, I’m done with you.
It’s Heisenburg time.
FYI for any pedants who don’t think this song is about anger, I really don’t give a shit. It’s how it speaks to me and that’s what really counts.
Over and out.