Just for today, I can try something new. Sometimes my life gets stale and boring and it's time for a change. I can try a new brand of shampoo, order a new kind of coffee drink, or, if I really want to shake things up, go with a new therapist. Just like fine wine, each therapist has his or own style and flavor. Perhaps it's time to look at my childhood through a new lens. Just for today, I have choices.

My therapist and I both agree that I have too many new ideas. At this rate, I'll never manifest any sort of career. I am like an idea machine; every minute I have a new idea. My inspiration generally comes when I face the tedious logistical part of my current venture. Suddenly, writing a novel doesn't seem quite so much fun or exciting. In fact, it seems like a bad idea or not "God's Will." I am afraid that I am a "vision addict." One of those people who have a new visionary idea every week. The only solution is total abstinence from any visions or ideas. Just for today, I can have no ideas.

I'm very grateful that my therapist doesn't confine herself to traditional therapy modalties like Gestalt or Freudian techniques, but is open minded to other explanations for my issues. For instance, when I talk about feeling unable to make a decision about my life, she'll remind me that Pisces personality will often "go with the tide." Or, when I am having an issue with someone in my life she'll remind me that I could be working out a relationship from a past life. It's nice to have a therapist with an open mind.

There's just no way I can compete. She's an attractive woman who listens to everything he says without having a freakout, or if she does, she will work it out and deal with it on her own because she is being PAID TO BE IN A RELATIONSHIP! HE never has to see her breakdown and cry when she feels abandoned, or get angry he says the "wrong" thing (and all people say the "wrong" thing at some point in non-paid relationships), or get cranky because she's tired from listening to everyone's drama. So, of course she's awesome and it's all legit because everyone needs a shrink.

Maybe I'm being a BRAT, because I have ISSUES and FEARS or maybe it feels a little sketchy because if I'm with someone more than one hour a week, I can't not be human and fallible. Of course she's going to seem more attractive and understanding...

Just for today, I can think that therapists are raising the bar too high for regular relationships.

Last night my boyfriend told me that his therapist had been at the Santa Monica Pier the same night we were. Um...that's weird. I can only imagine running into her. Her walking up to us with a glass of wine in hand, "Oh, I've heard all about you! How's the writing going? You know, you've really projecting a lot of your own issues with your father onto my client...so, I'm glad to hear that you're getting help. Hey, good luck with that acting class!"

Maybe she wouldn't say that...maybe she'd be a professional and everything, but you can't tell me that she wouldn't THINK it (especially after that wine...).

I really like my boyfriend. And I'm glad he goes to therapy. I'm just not crazy about having our arguements dissected by someone who frequents the same social gatherings and doesn't know me from a stranger on the street.

Just for today, I can feel weird.

It seems like I'm getting a lot more respect these days...but geez, I've had to really start being a bad ass to get it. I've had to find my Inner-Big-Black-Woman, my Inner-Tony-Soprano, AND my Inner-Robert-DeNiro. No more little nice girl. No more co-dependent doormat. And if you give me any crap, you're invited to my therapists office. Everyone's invited to her office. Even the president of the United States. However, I know he's busy and may be a little intimidated by the directness of my shrink's questions. Now, I know Robert DeNiro never had a therapist in Taxi Driver. But boy did he need one!

In case you don't want to come to my therapists office, that's fine. Just get ready for the ice storm! Cuz I'm not messin' around!

Just for today, I am not taking anymore crap!

I'm avoiding my therapist with excuses about shortages of cash when I'm really just so tired of the whole game. I sit there and talk about my feelings and emoticons towards Person X, and then she looks at me intently and says, "I really want to hear about Person X, but what I'd really like to know is...what are your feelings towards me."

And then I think, "Uh...,were we even talking about you? Are you that self-absorbed? Maybe I'm living in a parallel universe, but did you give birth to me and raise me till I was 18?" And then she gives me some speech about how if I work out my stuff it'll somehow carry over to the global dysfunction. And then I say, "Why you gittin' all up in my grill? You're just trying to make me see my own transference and what you really think is that I should break up with my boyfriend and move to Seattle!"

And then she looks at me like Tony Soprano on trial and says, "I never said that..."

Yeah, but that's what you meant, Bi-otch!

Just for today, I'm tired of therapy.

I feel bad for my therapist. Here she is trained to treat normal dysfunction and she has to deal with the aggressive scrutiny of my inner-Tony Soprano. I guess I was just tired of the same old routine. I come in and talk about me and then she talks about me and eventually I get quiet and make a joke because I'm tired of it ALWAYS being about ME and my "ISSUES." Anyway, while we were on the subject of my "defenses," I unsubtly alluded to the idea that maybe she also has "issues." And, if such is a the case, how could she be a credible healer in certain areas? Well, by the looks of it, this did not fly well. She maintained a professional exterior and all, but I could tell she was PISSED. She had the look I get when the kids I babysit burp and blow it in your face for the third time and it's just not funny anymore.

Now before I go any further I just want to say that therapy rocks and that most people could benefit from someone willing to mirror back their psychodrama. If it weren't for my therapist I wouldn't be speaking to my father or setting boundaries with the people I love. However, there comes a time in every therapized person's life when he/she looks squarely at his/hers therapist's pedicured feet and finely coordinated skirt and linen top and thinks, "Who is this person? And does she go home every night and slog back a martini and give her husband the silent treatment? And, if so, WHY AM I LISTENING TO HER?!"

Perhaps I sholdn't share such thoughts with my therapist, but, if so, what am I supposed to talk about? The weather? There's only so much more I can say about my childhood, relationships, and my fear of facial hair.

Just for today, I feel for my shrink.

Yep, the inevitable has come to pass. I spoke to my mom tonight and found out that the day has finally arrived when every last member of my family has entered therapy. It was only a matter of time, really. But life in the 21st century has made it's needs known. Forget about college funds, as soon as I have a child, I'm setting up the therapy fund. College may have helped me seem socially acceptable in certain circles, but therapy makes me FEEL socially accepted in my own society.

Just for today, my clan is in therapy.

I had an interesting B.I.T last week (Breakthrough In Therapy) in which I realized that I sincerely believe that there are people out in the world who not only hate me and who are actively plotting ways to try to hurt me. While I'm sure there are people who don't particularly care for me, my fantasy is that these people are driven by a hate so powerful that they are willing to pass hours, days, weeks of their lives working on a campaign to destroy my credibility throughout the world in order to make my life as miserable as humanly possible. And try as I may to prove otherwise, there is such a substantial grain of truth in their story that I may as well accept that my efforts are futile and that I should resign myself to a life cooped up in my apartment eating frozen chow mein from Trader Joe's (although, I will cook it) and watching Sex and the City re-runs while snuggling up to my cat.

Just for today, I can have breakthroughs in therapy.

I spent my entire therapy session flat on my back on the floor. No, this is not some new fangled way of releasing blocked negative feelings from my childhood. I pinched a nerve in my back this morning (probably as a result of some blocked negative feelings from my childhood...) and spent the whole day walking sideways or flat on the floor (I managed to find a way to lie on my chair). The point is, I got to see my therapist's office in a totally new light...literally, she has a skylight and some really lovely oak beams. Here I had spent so much time admiring her color coordinated furniture, wall decorations, and carpet that I had forgotten to look up and see what a damn cool ceiling she has. It was also an interesting perspective on my therapist (slightly up the nose).

Just for today, I can see things from new perspectives.

Part of my therapy is a "mirroring process" (therapy speak) of my emotional state (this helps "contain" me so I don't unload my life story to strangers in a coffee shop...at least not everyday). I would say my therapist hits the mark of accuracy about 80% of the time. However, there are times when she'll say something that will make me wonder if, perhaps, she is indeed out of her tree and just a really good actress (there's no way to know unless I hire a detective who gets actual photos of her smoking out with transvestites who she pays for ritual abuse...can you imagine? It might be worth it just for the material...).

The other day we were discussing dating (have I mentioned that I think it's stupid?) and she imparted her belief that I'm searching for "emotional intimacy." Hmmm.... From dating? Isn't that a little heavy handed? Emotional intimacy during the early dating phase seems more like a giant red flag. One fun date. That's all I'm asking for (and, apparently, it's too much...).

She "got" me once I explained myself in detail, but still...what if she is whacked?

Just for today, I can question my therapist's sanity.

My doctor told me that I have parasites. I can't talk to my therapist about it because she will use it as one of the connecting metaphors to tie my session into a nice little Freudian package. Who are the parasites in my life? How do I feel that she is a parasite in my life? I know Freud is dead, but would someone shoot him anyway?

Tonight, I'm competing in a dance contest. While my therapist supports my belated geriatric-style dance ambitions, I'm afraid someone needs to stop me before I become a character in a Tennessee Williams play (probably too late).

Just for today, I can have issues with my therapist.

I told my therapist that the world feels like a cold, hard, unforgiving place, and she assessed that I was (am) having an existential crisis. So, people aren't losing their jobs with no severance, while the federal government suddenly adopts a socialist attitude to the auto industry? Giant fucking sigh.

Maybe it's just me, but I'm starting to feel a chill. At least my apartment has heat.

Just for today, my heart goes out to people struggling all over America.