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First video psych appointment tomorrow. It'll be okay, more or less, for that appt.
I'm sad, and I'm angry. My almost 2 years of therapy have fallen apart. What a joke...I started therapy because I was grieving too many losses. So what happens? Therapy becomes another loss. How typical, ironic, and absurd.
I'm furious because my therapist lied to me, used stupid platitudes ("I'll hold your hope for you." Yeah, right..."until I don't want to see you in person because I'm afraid of catching the virus." So retire, lady, if you can't properly do your job.)
Now my mind is plagued with the demons again and my mom's voice, chastising me for being stupid enough to trust anyone but her, for going to therapy "just to talk about her behind her back."
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