xp_daytripper | (no subject)

Current Mood: impressed
Current Location: not Sofia's couch any more, manhattan

(no subject)

Well, gotta say one thing for the new shrink. She's tough all right. Not like those hippie wankers in Social Services back home. I gave her the whole sordid story of my early life and she barely batted an eyelid.

*grins*

Guess I'll have to try harder next time.

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*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.

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