Quote:
Originally Posted by montsnmags
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I am currently trying not to puke after lifting bag of postcrete that had sat too near the blood-and-bone. I hate blood-and-bone. I've washed my hands several times ("Out, damned spot!"), but I can still smell the awful stuff, even if only in my mind. Ugh!
Cheers,
Marc
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Swarfega Orange.
Quote:
Originally Posted by recluse
I fired my therapist today. In the middle of the clinic waiting room. Apparently, the anti-anxiety meds he gave me were antidepressants! He didn't understand why I was so angry!
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You what?
That's outrageous.
Quote:
Originally Posted by recluse
Who knows what's in my damn file. Multiple therapists, multiple diagnosises(?). The place has got a bad rep, but seems to be bulletproof. I'm trying to get into another place, but this was the only outfit doing one on one therapy I can afford. Everybody else is group therapy or substance abuse.
And I managed without meds for 43 years.
Maybe now it's everybody elses turn to be afraid.
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Keep trying to get into the other place. And maybe talk to the receptionist to see if there's enough of you that have been messed about you can try and force him out. Or something.
Quote:
Originally Posted by kennyc
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Or all of the above.