In Therapy

I’m sitting there twirling my thumbs, a little uncomfortable – I look around the office. I paste on a smile as she takes another sip from her moomin mug. The silence has stretched on for a bit now – it’s almost painful, I picture walking out, being free.

She looks straight at me and says in a rather loud voice “it’s also important to understand that this isn’t your fault”

“What isn’t my fault?” I ask confused

“It’s important that you don’t blame yourself for this, it’s not your fault that your mother has breast cancer” She elaborates.

I sit up scrunching my face to register my confusion and go, “What!?

Does she really think that I believe that I somehow caused my mother’s ailment?

What am I, 8? I’m not that self-centred!

I do realize that sometimes people get sick and it has nothing to do with me, it’s not always about me.

She must really think I’m an idiot

I can’t believe I’m giving this woman $150/session to screw with my head.

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