It’s that thought again

There’s this thought I have

I’ve had it quite a few times

It’s probably time to write it down

It reads something like this, in sequence:

I’ve become my mom’s/dad’s/husband’s/sister’s therapist.
Wait! Shouldn’t I already have been my mom’s therapist?
I mean shouldn’t all of us be a ‘therapist’ for everyone in our close family?*
Isn’t that exactly what families are for?
Really, isn’t it weirder that a paid professional therapist should have you take on the role of daughter/brother/wife, and listen for hours without getting annoyed, and offer understanding and a balanced perspective?

(And then I complain to myself about the state of America’s mental health, and mental health system, and mental health drugs…)

Yeah, it’s that thought. I remember now that I’ve written it down before.

 

 

 

 

*To the best of our ability of course. What else could anyone expect? Practice makes perfect.

 

 

Z WHAT CHOO FRAID TO SAY ANYTHING TO EM? WHAT CHOO FRAID TALKING TO EM GON DO? Z

 

 

Gakak! And now I expand this thought, in a regrettable way. Because I just realized why we are less and less likely to act like our family’s therapists for each other.

Because we’re more and more afraid our families are going to dump us. Because they might. Blecch.

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