Peak weirdness happened in my Zoom therapy session last week.
As I was retelling my dream my therapist fell asleep.
When he awoke he shared his dream and asked what I thought.
His dream: He’s leaning over a reflecting pool staring at an image of himself while giant narcissi dance like Radio City Rockettes nearby.
I took a few notes and told him I thought he needed professional help.
He grinned, popped a few pills, checked his watch, and yawned. “Let’s set up a time next week. To discuss your recurring abandonment issues.”
“What?” I mumbled.
“Did my falling asleep while you droned on about your sad little dream trigger your unresolved childhood abandonment issues?”
“I don’t understand,” I lied.
“We know you were psychologically abandoned by your mother at a young age and the rage you feel toward her you’re projecting onto me. Here’s the thing: I’m not your mother and your subconscious would put a lot of people to sleep.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“It’s been a long day and I haven’t been getting much sleep,” he said, “so it makes perfect sense I took a little nap. You seem angry. Are you angry?”
I was too upset to admit I wanted to gut him like a catfish. FFS how could my therapist, who I pay good money to, fall asleep while I’m sharing my darkest secrets, and then wake up and ask me to analyze his boring over-the-top narcissistic dream? Instead I lied and said, “Um no I’m feeling more like a gratitude vibe ...”
He raised one perfectly plucked mahogany-tinted eyebrow. “Go on.”
I cleared my throat. “You trusted me enough to fall asleep on me and then felt comfortable enough to blame me for it! That’s a level of trust I haven’t had for a while, not since I was married. So yeah cool.”
He smiled. “You’re making progress,” he said jotting down a grocery list. “What time next week?”
We set a time but I knew I’d ghost the jerk and never bare my boring psyche with him again.
Why pay a professional to fuck with my head when I get can it for free anytime?
So I’m struggling with quarantine insanity and intermittent depression (who isn’t?), it’s no excuse to throw good money at a not-so-covert-narcissistic therapist.
I’ll be fine, I told myself. Just need to find another therapist. Preferably an older woman with unkempt eyebrows. Then I’ll feel safe.
Hey: Is your therapist a closet narcissist? Promise I won’t fall asleep reading your comments.
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