Today was quite draining. My activities began at my job as a research assistant where I had to run my boss through a new phase of our experiment as a test to see whether I could run actual participants. This may not seem like a lot, but in order to do this I had to memorize a nine-page script (actually, it was more like a megillah), somehow overcome my performance anxiety and sit and make eye-contact with an authority figure for about forty minutes. I was approved, thankfully, but it was a lot to handle for a Monday morning!
(Oh yeah, I also didn't sleep AT ALL last night. Good times, Great Lakes.)
After work, I made my way downtown to Dr. Freud's office where, as promised, I told her that I no longer wanted to see her. Her reaction began as expected-- trying to find out what happened that made me feel this way. I told her that I'd rather not tell her because I didn't want to bring more attention to the issue and that I deserve my secrets. She spent the rest of the time trying to figure out what it was that turned me off to her and told me that the problem with secrets is that they "defeat the treatment." Um, what treatment? I thought this was a consult. She also stared at me, trying to break my stonewall.
However I left her office learning something invaluable: If you are too immature to handle someone's request to stop treatment like an adult, perhaps you shouldn't be practicing medicine. The session ended with her telling me there is something "terribly wrong" with me (yes, I swear that's a direct quote). When she suggested we stop for the day I thanked her for her time, to which she responded by holding the door open and shooing me out of it. Stay classy.
So as a result I left her office feeling like a shitty person and a bitch. And S left me a voicemail saying that he's coming over tomorrow which I interpret to mean that he wants to get laid. Again. If only I had enough self-respect to say no.