To Terrorize a Therapist: QP’s Clothesrack

So I told you more information would come on what happened to Dear Therapist and me… and here it is. When I went to her lately, it was to confront her with her oath-breach and her behavior towards me, and I intended to scare the hell out of her as a form of revenge.

Of course, there are many ways of scaring people… I like them best as I like my outfits: subtly provocative. I believe that when someone is already in the right mindset, there isn’t much needed to get him into assumptions. A push is all it takes. I am a woman, so this pushing is mostly done with… clothing. And I know that must sound horribly superficial but… “surprise!” I actually am. The outfit pictured is approximately what I was wearing on the consult. Add black hold-up stockings, silver-rimmed glasses, a tight bun and an icy glare and you know what I looked like.

Now, when I entered she was already nervous. She always begins her consults in the same way, she says “I give you the word” as a way to start the conversation. I answered her this time “You can get that right back from me. I would really like you to talk to me this session.” All without raising my voice; I imitated her professional facade. I mirrored her behavior. And I stared at her, a slight smile on my lips while she started explaining. She started very confident, a bit over-confident even, but my small insertions in her explanation (no more than a phrase at the time, I swear!) completely caught her off guard, causing her to lose track of what she was saying not once but twice!

That continued for a while, until she was cursing at me, fuddling her hands and feet, leaning towards me in her chair, her voice broken. She started saying that “if I would cross the line and she wouldn’t have done something about that, she could close her goddamn practice” and then that she is “the main provider for her family”, that she has three kids, a husband, people who count on her to put bread on the table, people she cares for, and that she knows I goddamn can’t understand it but she has a responsibility towards the world and the people she loves… It was whole rant and I found it delightful. RIP Stoic Therapist, I’d say. She showed me the person underneath the profession.

I ended the conversation with “Have I touched your limits, Dear Therapist”? I didn’t even attempt to mask my unholy glee anymore. She stared at me with… I don’t know what it was. Something between fear and disgust. Very enticing, I might add. When we shook hands I felt hers were all sweaty and trembling.

I thought that was it for my pleasure, but no. Yesterday I happened to be in a psychiatrist’s practice, and it is an old building, thin walls and stuff. And I’m an eavesdropper, I admit. So I was listening to what was being said, and I had to smirk, thinking that apparently I’m not the only creepy woman causing others moral trouble… and then the door of the practice opened and who leaves there, after shaking hands with the doctor and agreeing on a new hour for consultation? Dear Therapist. I think that is what one calls a full-blown success…

Love and chaos, QP