I keep forgetting I*m not that kind of therapist. I have bombed with at least three mental health training supervisors. I*m not sure this is a record. Perhaps it is. I want to say to each of them: It*s not you... It*s me. But then again, this line sounds like I no longer want to date them, and I*m working to find the least hurtful way out. I stuck with two of them for a year each. I learned a lot. For number three... we made it two sessions. It*s not you... it*s me. This, of course, is true. And of course, it*s you too. I feel like I have left three gifted people, and yet kept the original who sees that I am not that kind of therapist. See... I am still doing it: It*s not you... it*s me. Of course. Of course it*s you too.
I felt the need
To switch hats last night.
Now
I said
I am not talking to you
As a therapist.
Oh
She said
Of course you*re not.
That*s not why I see you
Anyway.
