When You’re Not the Fixer
My closest girlfriends have nicknamed my therapist Marg, probably because I talk about her so much. I’m already an introspective woman, but it’s amazing what a good therapist can cull out of you.
Once in a good season I threatened Marg that I’d cause trouble in my own life just to be able to keep seeing her. Sometimes I go in there and bawl my little cliché head off, but other times I go in there and we slap our knees. We laugh hard together. I tell her my funny stories, and it feels a lot like friendship, except I pay her and she can question my motives at every turn and bold-faced call me names like martyr. Once I considered breaking up with her as my therapist just so we could be actual friends, but wisdom told me better.