stuff my shrink says

I've started seeing my shrink again. We took a break. I felt like I needed to stop talking and start doing. (Also I've found shrinks are never quite ready to let go, it's like the world's longest talkiest break-up.)

But this shrink is a good one and is doing tele-health (which is a victory in and of itself, as pre-pandemic the shrink wouldn't even e-mail me, citing HIPAA laws). Pre-session I always get this panic like there won't be enough to talk about, my shrink will probably just say All good and end the session early. Ha ha. 

At our very first session back, I was relaying a long-awaited conversation I'd had with a family member, getting answers to questions I've had for years. My shrink said, "Oh was this family member X?" And I just had this feeling of gratefulness. I'm sure my shrink had just freshly re-read all the notes from the years of previous sessions, but my shrink knows and remembers, and that is pretty dang valuable.

I guess I'm writing this to encourage anyone who might be considering talk therapy. It's 100% worth it. Yes, it is kind of like the world's worst dating trying to find a good shrink, there has to be chemistry and trust, but sometimes even the ones that don't work out can be worth it.

(The exception is the counselor my ex and I saw, pre-divorce. A 90 minute session with her felt like 90 hours. Even though we were face to face, it felt canned, and strangely distant, like talking to the speaker at a fast food drive-thru.)

A previous shrink that I saw maybe six times, all on video chat, didn't work out. We never could figure out the video chat software, and once she did a session in what looked like her bathrobe. But she was the person who told me about Tara Westover's book "Educated," a book that I've read twice and has changed my life, so I'm grateful. 

Another previous shrink that I saw four times--and stopped seeing the day I sat in his waiting room for half an hour and he remembered our appointment only as he was hurrying out of his office, on his way next door to the medical marijuana spot--he's the one who gave voice, legitimacy, to the violence of my childhood. I talked about the yelling and the gaslighting and the hitting, and he held up a hand. "That, in my business, is what we call child abuse," he said. "And so should you." And I felt grateful in yet another way.