*sighs* Well, strangely enough, I like my job. I like the fact I don't have to work in pubs for a living, that I'm doing something useful, that I'm close by my friends and the people I consider family. I want to keep the job so I come to you like a good little employee.
Again, I don't know you. You've read my file, you've seen I've done the rounds of social workers and courts and police and all the rest of it. All of them collected their bit of information about me, added it to the great big pile of paper and then the next time I fronted up, there it all was, to be used however they saw fit. The way I was raised, the way I was taught to think, words are power. In magic words give you control over something, let you defiine it. So you sit there and you ask your questions and listen to what I say and write your notes and what guarantee do I have that they won't be used against me too? You're not one of us, you've made it very clear that you're not and it's not like I've made the decision that I need a therapist and chosen to come to you. So to put it bluntly? I don't feel comfortable having to trust someone with my personality, in all its fucked up glory, that I don't know and I haven't even been given the choice to see.
It's not about whether I need therapy or not. I know I do. I saw Samson at the school for the two years I was there and when I was in New Orleans I did addiction counselling and went to a group for sexual abuse survivors. I knew I had problems and I worked to make a start on fixing them. The point here is... it isn't my choice. You weren't someone I chose to talk to and going to see you wasn't something I had much option to refuse, not if I didn't want to end up back at Muir Island or New Orleans, away from just about everyone that gives my life any kind of structure. And again, if you've read my file and we damn well know you have, you'll know just how important choice is for me.
This isn't personal. I don't know you. I don't dislike you. I certainly don't hate you. And maybe eventually I'll get used to this whole thing and stop feeling so fucking uncomfortable about it. But right now, I feel like I'm being treated like that messed up basket case of a kid I was back in England or even when I first came to the school and you wonder why I'm reacting negatively?
no subject
Again, I don't know you. You've read my file, you've seen I've done the rounds of social workers and courts and police and all the rest of it. All of them collected their bit of information about me, added it to the great big pile of paper and then the next time I fronted up, there it all was, to be used however they saw fit. The way I was raised, the way I was taught to think, words are power. In magic words give you control over something, let you defiine it. So you sit there and you ask your questions and listen to what I say and write your notes and what guarantee do I have that they won't be used against me too? You're not one of us, you've made it very clear that you're not and it's not like I've made the decision that I need a therapist and chosen to come to you. So to put it bluntly? I don't feel comfortable having to trust someone with my personality, in all its fucked up glory, that I don't know and I haven't even been given the choice to see.
It's not about whether I need therapy or not. I know I do. I saw Samson at the school for the two years I was there and when I was in New Orleans I did addiction counselling and went to a group for sexual abuse survivors. I knew I had problems and I worked to make a start on fixing them. The point here is... it isn't my choice. You weren't someone I chose to talk to and going to see you wasn't something I had much option to refuse, not if I didn't want to end up back at Muir Island or New Orleans, away from just about everyone that gives my life any kind of structure. And again, if you've read my file and we damn well know you have, you'll know just how important choice is for me.
This isn't personal. I don't know you. I don't dislike you. I certainly don't hate you. And maybe eventually I'll get used to this whole thing and stop feeling so fucking uncomfortable about it. But right now, I feel like I'm being treated like that messed up basket case of a kid I was back in England or even when I first came to the school and you wonder why I'm reacting negatively?