Mixed bag

I had my first major league bout with counter-transference in the therapy room today. That's where my own issues get in the way of the relationship with the client and perhaps interfere with therapy.

I've discussed this situation with peers who are totally in-the-know, and the feedback I get from them is that I probably did a GOOD thing for my client. I think what I said to the client was probably decent, therapeutically, but I'm struggling with the fact that *I* know some of my comments were born in annoyance rather than empathy and kindness.

If you've learned anything about me from reading my blog these past few years, you'll notice that I'm no stranger to self-reflection and second-guessing. You can only imagine where I might take a serious inquiry into my own motivations for saying something supposedly "therapeutic" to a client, something that may have been perceived as a lecture or, worse, a dressing down. I was a touch passionate as I spoke.

I'd get into it more, but I just don't think it's kosher to write about clients on the freakin' Internet, no matter how "anonymous" I might hope to make this blog.

But as I think of it, the client's behavior and demeanor is strikingly similar to that of ... The Notorious M.O.M.

So....

In other news, after more than two years, several purchases and more than my neighborhood's fair share of curse words about the approaching "end times," I finally -- mutha-fucking jesus eatin' shit patties on a fence post FINALLY! -- got a can opener that WORKS! I never thought I'd see the day. Can opener after can opener, I have managed to buy lemon after lemon. But I finally plunked down $12 on the right tool at the grocery store, and I was able to open three cans tonight without a single mutha-fuckin' curse word! Glory be!

Alas, I think it means the end is very nearly fuckin' nigh (with apologies to 28 Days Later).