Therapy Love

I admire therapists. I love my therapy. Isn’t it wonderful?

I used to think like most people do of group therapies. You sit in a circle with a bunch of weirdos who tell each other their problem before proceeding to a group hug. Ew.

I have already detailed the procedure on my LiveJournal. I haven’t said much of how I feel, though. Talkin’ ’bout yo feelins is important, guise.

As I said, I admire therapists in general. There are three in charge of my group (two “full” therapists and a girl doing an internship). One of the therapists, let’s call him A, is a man, must be somewhere in his forties. He mostly keeps to himself during therapy, more watching over the group than anything else. I have deducted that he might be the one in charge of the girl doing an internship.

The other therapist is a woman, about the same age, perhaps a little older. She’s a nice woman, very calm. Not that I’ve ever seen a hyperactive therapist yet.

As for the girl, well, she’s just a young woman, in her early twenties, I guess. She is used to working with kids and, while she’s nice and all, I must say it can be seen in the way she talks to us. I don’t know if the other people in the therapy are conscious of it, but it annoys me a bit.

As for the participants, they are just people. 😛 No really bad “case” gets put into those groups (e.g. a person with very high schizophrenia). We’re generally just anxious, shy, that sort of things.

There was a new woman today. I didn’t like her. She’s one of those people that can’t seem to be able to stop expressing themselves verbally or through various sounds like “mhm”. STFU already. She was also quite tired at the end, just eager to finally leave the place. I enjoyed myself and wanted to stay. Yay! Let’s draw some more! And paint! And talk! Woot!

Edit. I have added a resources page.


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