Naw, this ain’t my imagination, I know a quack when I see one

And when a therapist starts crossing boundaries, it gets clear real fast.  Acting unprofessional isn’t cool, it’s just plain stupid.  It’s offensive and thankfully I recognize it, so I’m leaving this dude now while I’ve got my wits about me.

So here’s an example: He asks me if I know his ex.  I’m not kidding you.  I’m glad I stopped him before he told me her name, but I know a few things about her that I won’t mention here cuz it’s nobody’s business.  Then, get this: he told me how he got rid of her.  Yep, that’s right.  Make a new plan, Stan.  There must be 50 ways to leave your lover.  The last thing a patient wants to hear about is their therapist’s ex and related drama.  I didn’t walk in there wanting to know a lot of crap about his personal life, and I heard more than my share yesterday.

Now do you believe me?

Jesus, I fired my last one thinking this one was better.  Now I don’t have a therapist at all.  When you’re on Medicare and Medicaid, you just can’t get care.  No one knows about eating disorders and there aren’t decent therapists to be found anywhere.

 

2 thoughts on “Naw, this ain’t my imagination, I know a quack when I see one”

    1. You’re so sweet. Like we were saying, your friend can’t be your therapist, but gee, it’s like impossible on public insurance to find anyone! I remember in 1981, I phoned the local counseling place, and in a week, I was in. I paid five bucks a session, sliding scale. This was in backwards rural Vermont. She knew nothing about eating disorders, of course no one did back then, not her fault, but at least I had a very good quality therapist to talk to, I got to cry even. What happened to those days?

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