I had my 2nd appointment with the shrink today and I've decided I'm not going back. Not to that shrink anyway.
I had occasion to mention that I enjoy architecture (a trait of mine that my mom nailed me to the wall for, which is why I brought it up) and this mere mention of architecture set the guy to talking about Gehry's Walt Disney Concert Hall in downtown L.A. and how there was so much reflectivity from the building's silvery roof and exterior walls that it actually reflected sunlight parabolically into nearby condominiums in ways that sent their air-conditioning costs sky-rocketing... (listen, listen, listen, glance at the clock, listen...) eventually they had to consult with Gehry and his design team in order to "re-design" (read: sand down) the silvery stuff. "But boy, Gehry must have found that difficult, as a designer..."
(Incidentally, the prologue to this story included the shrink (who, if I haven't made this apparent, seems just about ready for retirement) asking me, "What's the place in California... kids...? That place for kids, in California..." "You don't mean Disneyland, do you?" I asked - not believing that's a name any modern American would have trouble recalling. "Disneyland. Yes, well who founded Disneyland?" A.net, he was actually
asking. "I believe it was Walt Disney himself," I told him, evincing a touch of incredulity. "Yes, well Disney's heirs gave a lot of money for Los Angeles to build a new... performing arts center...")
(See, if we pretend for a moment that any shred of this story of his had any place whatsoever in my 50 minute session, we would still be able to say it should've started with "Frank Gehry designed a concert hall for Los Angeles..." rather than going back to him having to ask me "What's the place in California for kids?")
There were at least three other such digressions in the course of the session, I honestly wouldn't be surprised if it proved true that I got to talk for less than 20% of the time. When I have benefited from therapy (and I've been in therapy on and off over several chapters in my life and always gotten a lot out of it), it has been from being listened to. I really just want a human being to listen to whatever my Kvetch of the Month is... I can sit on my apartment floor and recite my kvetches out loud to whichever spirits, saints, angels, paroled devils, gods, demigods, departed souls, or neighbors' pets happen to be listening, but for some reason the burden doesn't really go away - I'll recite the same kvetch day after day after day - until I share it with another human being; and somehow that kinda makes the burden go poof.
This shrink ain't in to listening, plus I have to get up early and drive to Plymouth to see him, so... feh.
But I'm not sure where to go from here... I hate calling my insurance company and asking them about coverage because their customer service/member service just plain stinks; staffed by $14/hr temps I bet (I know because back in my CIGNA days I was one of them
) with barely a high school education and a hit-and-miss chance of them grasping what my question actually is.
Historically I would just blow this sort of thing off; but I have to remind myself this "manage your stress" business has already put me in the emergency room once...
Pancakes are delicious.