xp_daytripper | (no subject)

You bunch are sweetiecakes compared to my last set of "clients".

Glad our session didn't terrify you overly much, Amanda.

See, now you're making me all curious. Just where was this mysterious last job of yours?

And it takes a fuckload more than you to terrify me. You have read my file, right? I'm a regular social worker/psychologist/psychiatrist aff... affisc... expert.

Curious enough to book another session?

Well, the way this place goes on you'd think therapy was equal with hanging one by their toenails.

What I want doesn't come into it, remember, doc? Or are you ready to give me a clean bill of mental health for Frost? So yeah, I'll be back on the couch in a week give or take.

It's not so much that therapy's that bad. Look at it this way. You've read our files. You know most of us don't come from normal backgrounds. Actually, most of us have huge issues trusting people, either because of work or because we're just fucked up. Then you come in, we don't know you from a bar of soap and you lay down the law that we're supposed to come see you and talk about what we're thinking and feeling or we get the sack. And then you seem surprised when we're less than overjoyed by the idea?

You're the shrink, you tell me if I've got a point or whether I'm just too crazy to know what I'm talking about.

Then again, there's a point at which you need to grin and bear it if you want to go on being a functional human being. Especially if the stress that's threatening to make you dysfunctional is an ongoing thing.

And no, I'm not talking about myself at all. Why do you ask?

Well, funnily enough I thought I was doing okay. Yes, I know I'm not in any way "normal", but I'm not the mess I was last year or even the year before. I'm feeling stronger emotionally than I have in a long... well ever.

Think of it this way, Nate. How would you feel if they told you you couldn't be an X-Man unless you went to the shrink they hired, even if you didn't think you needed one? You go see yours because you chose to. I go to see Sofia because if I don't, I'm unemployed.

I see Jack because I chose to, you're right. But I also go through the regular psych evaluations that every team member does, on top of that. If I started skipping them, I would be doing a whole lot of sitting at home and watching the jet take off.

No one's suggesting that you're not doing okay. But you're in a stressful job that's going to put additional pressure on you - you and everyone else - and there's no guarantee that one of you won't snap under that pressure at some point. Sofia's job, if I understand correctly, is to make sure that doesn't happen.

But who does the evaluations? The Prof or your bloke or someone else hired in specially? And if you had issues with whoever they picked, would you be able to say "no, I'd rather go to this person instead" or would they insist?

I just... Fuckit. I feel like I'm being a whiny brat but this really bothers me. Going to a shrink's fucking difficult enough for me, but at least with Samson I knew if we really didn't get on I could ask for Moira to find me someone else. And he never rubbed my nose in the fact that it wasn't up to me at first to go see him. "You must all come and see me or else" seems to be the only thing Sofia knows how to say.

Think of it this way. In a case like this, it's not so much about you as the job. I see the Professor for those evaluations I mentioned because I want to be able to stay on the team. I see Jack for me, because I want to be sane.

If you feel that you don't need this for you, maybe try and take a step back and remember that you do need it for the job.

I can't really forget that, can I?

Sod it. I'm off to go work on my power levels a bit and maybe see if anyone's up for a night out. Since yeah, still can't fucking argue a point in these things and not come off feeling like a berk.

Of course you have a choice. If you want your job, you choose to come to me, otherwise, you don't.

The point where you seem to think I have plans for whatever you tell me is a bit perplexing, I must admit. All sessions are confidential and even if they weren't.

Perhaps I'm missing something. I've had a therapist for several years; I find them very helpful. What's the problem exactly?

*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?

You do realise I can see your responses to Nathan as well, yes? In which case, you've just managed to make this very much personal.

Feel free to rant to him. If you actually want to discuss something tomorrow, I am free at noon.

Fine. I've got work to do first, tho', so can we make it two? Since yeah, since I'm having to jump through all those hoops to keep the job, might as well do it, eh?

Of course. Two will be fine.

I suppose you know where my actual room is. This will not be a session.

I would like to add, however, that these are not my rules. These are the rules I have to follow to do my job; the rules I have to enforce to keep my job. Would you have preferred I said nothing and found a pink slip on your desk on Monday? I hope your night out is pleasant, Amanda.

Strangely enough, we're not idiots. Or children. You want me to go back and count just how many times you've posted "you have to come to a therapy session or lose your job" since you got here? I'm doing statistics I could even do a little chart for you.

So yeah, informing us, like you did when you first turned up, that we had to go see you or our jobs were at risk was fair enough. You giving us fair warning and you would have satisfied the requirements of your job. Anyone who chose to not go after that would have to wear whatever happened after that. Because that's what grownups do. They take responsibility for what happens as a result of what they choose and fuck knows I've had that hammered into my head the past six months.

So for every time you repeat what we already know makes it just that little bit harder for us to trust you. Like I said, we don't know you. What we do know of you is what we've seen on the journals and around the office. And that's been "come to your sessions or get fired" umpteen dozen times. We get it already.

And no, I don't know where your flat is. Somewhere on the third floor? Because I have to admit, I figured the bollocking about having issues with something that's a part of my job would have to have been an office thing.

My commentary will ease when people actually come to their sessions, I assure you. You'll notice that there was no notice this week about it being the actual two-week mark, since with the exception of two, you've all managed to see me.

It would have been until the pointed remarks towards myself as opposed to therapy in general.

I'll see you at two.

You stop with the remarks about our attitude towards therapy and I'll stop making remarks about you personally. Although if you think that's pointed, you really don't know me. All I said was that you rub our noses in the fact we have to see you, which, if you look at the number of times you mention it, could be considered true.

Two it is. I'm out of here. Don't wait up.

Yes. I'll get right on ignoring anything negative that you might do and write you all sonnets about the tiny portion of my day that does not contain confidential work. I think it will be titled, "Sofia Makes Scrambled Eggs". Perhaps, "Sofia Doesn't Get To Eat Scrambled Eggs Because She Has To Be Downtown Currently" or "Sofia Drives Quickly".

Third floor. I'll leave the door open.

You really need to get a life.

Did you use the rope on her? The tabasco? I do so like to know my gifts are appreciated.

Sadly no, am saving those for Remy. Who skipped his appointment. Again.

I'm not surprised. He does tend to be a little bit stubborn about things. I'd try what meager influence I have but I really don't want to waste my credit with him. You understand, right?

Of course. It's my job, am I'm in no way asking you to do it for me. You'll have to excuse me if he accidentally falls out a window, however.

Oh, I didn't think you were.

I promise not to hold it against you if he does. However, I'm fairly certain he'll just bounce like Neo did. I mean, it didn't take when I tried to kill him either.

You have some fucking nerve joking about that in my journal.

Who on earth said I was joking? I was illustrating a point. Do you really think I find that whole situation funny?

Besides, I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to Sofia.

Funny you forgot to mention just why he's not dead right now. And I'd rather no-one tried throwing him out of the window since yeah, it'd probably stick well and truly this time.

My journal. Hard to ignore it when it sends comments to my email. Now get the fuck out of here and chat to Sofia in your own.

Because Malice was sadistic, I wasn't completely ineffective and you managed to pull off a miracle at, possibly, the cost of your soul.

Happy now?

I'd rather just invite her out for drinks. She seems like she could use it.

Enough, all of you.

There are more important things then this crap right now. Sofia, Amanda helped stop someone killing nine-tenths of the planet last week. Threaten to have her fired again, and I swear I'll pitch you out the fucking door myself.

Lorna, Amanda, this conversation stops. Now.

It won't happen again. I'm sorry.

Well, I'd have to do it twice in a row for it to be considered "again", Remy. I personally think she is a great asset to this group and would prefer not to see her go.

But feel free to try.