Kailee Place, LPC
The Vulnerable Therapist: Making the Choice to Remain Angry
This therapist is about to get vulnerable.
Myth: Therapists clearly have their shit together or else they wouldn't be therapists.
Fact: Therapists do NOT always have their shit together. Some days their shit is all over the place. We are humans too ya know! BUT therapists (in theory) are trained to put their own crap aside and sit with you in your time of need. Our stuff sits in the hallway and we get to it later.
Which brings me to my moment of vulnerability and a moment where my shit briefly fell apart. Just barely... (yeah okay.)
You know when you make a plan and you feel so good about it? You feel on top of the world. You’ve prepared. You’ve planned. You are ready. In my case... I was ready to make a badass cheesecake that uses four packages of cream cheese (important.) I got the cream cheese and I relied on no one else using that cream cheese despite never telling anyone my plans... (foreshadowing.)
Saturday evening I went to take out my perfectly planned four packages of cream cheese to get my raspberry swirl cheesecake started (so good.) Only I discovered three packages of cream cheese. What the F. Innocently enough, pimento cheese spread was made the night before (very delicious) and a package of cream cheese was used. Cue irritation, cue a little huffing and puffing, and cue the subtly passive aggressive statement, “I didn’t even think about it when you made the cheese, but I had gotten four packages specifically to make the cheesecake... I mean, it’s okay. I’ll just run out early tomorrow morning I guess.” Probably some little sigh happened here too.
"I guess..." Powerful passive aggressive stuff there.
Next morning comes. I run to the store. Grab one more package of cream cheese (and random shit so I didn’t literally go for one package of cream cheese... some insecurities about being judged? Maybe.) I go home, ready to go! I grab the other three packages and... MOTHER EFFING WHAT THE HELL... one package is HALF GONE. It's been opened, but I couldn't tell when I quickly glanced into the cheese drawer.
So here comes the true anger and frustration. I wanted to start the damn cake yesterday but then I had to wait and go to the store. I went to the store but noooo there was EVEN LESS cream cheese than I thought!!
And then the arm flailing happened. With the opened, half-used cream cheese package in my right hand. I flail my arm wide, for impact, and out of the open end of the package comes flying the tin foil wrapped portion of cream cheese! And I mean FLYING. (The flail was strong.) Cream cheese flies into the microwave door, ricochets with force, soaring back towards the kitchen... nearly knocking my Significant Other out (maybe I’m exaggerating there) and lands with a hard thud on the floor. SO walks away quickly and quietly. (Smart guy right there.) For most people reading right now, this is a funny image and sounds ridiculous. Pretty freakin' funny, right? I should have been laughing... right....?
Well, I WANTED to be mad. I wanted to relish in my irritation and my martyrdom. I had to go back to the damn store and no hilarious moment was going to break my focus on being miserable.
I got into the car, slamming the car door, and as I drove towards the store, I could not keep myself from laughing. And I’m talking belly laughter... maniacal, “what is she on?” laughter.
I got three packages of cream cheese from the store and went home. We made a delicious cheesecake and truly, all was fine in the world. But man, I really wanted to be pissed. And flying cream cheese made it difficult for me, but I still tried to force the frustration and pissiness. Why?? I wasn’t proving anything. I wasn’t solving anything. I was just being a poor sport and zeroing in on something that truly wasn’t a big deal.
Moral of the story: even a therapist can throw a fit (after launching cream cheese.)
Give yourself a break and know you’re human, but also try not to hold onto wanting to be angry. It does nothing. It makes for a good story, but in the moment, I acted like a 3-year-old.
Not my best look.
(Number of times "cream cheese" was said: 15. Wow.)
Until next time,