I am a little suspicious. Enemy has twice reached over at the table in front of where I sit. I sit on a couch with a glass coffee table in front of me. There is a small crystal ball the size of a large gum ball, a vase, probably a tissue box ( always in a psych. office) and something else.
I wonder if there is a voice recorder or camera in this room. I know that people with mental disorders are supposed to have paranoia labels, but I am the exception. My sister had to go to a marriage resolution therapist with her horrible ex. and she recorded the sessions. It was great entertainment!
But…the thought is there. I asked my husband if there is a device I could use to jam a recording device. He is not surprised with this question. I guess he has gotten over all of the “interesting” as my friends calls “my questions” now. He does not know of any, but guesses we could go to Best Buy and inquire. That would mean I would have to explain about having to pay “Enemy” $135.00 any hour and now having to find a devise to jam frequencies in his office. So much to do before the next appointment.
So, Enemy keeps asking me, or suggesting that I could bring in a picture from a magazine. I completed kindergarten 45 years ago. This some how irritates me every time he mentions it. The only thing I actually cut out is pictures of birds from time to time. I tape them to a collage of family photos on our office door. Everyone loves it and it defiantly is not psycho. The only magazines I’ve been reading lately have been The Atlantic and Psychology Today.
Speaking of birds, in the 90’s I did have a rather odd relationship with deceased birds that the cats would bring into the house. Back in the 90’s the HMO’s insisted that you seek counseling for 6 visits if you were to see a psychiatrist. No way around it. It was an insane rule. I did not need to see a mental health professional. Some how in my eccentric mood, I decided to send through the mail one of the dead birds to the CEO of one of the HMO’s. It was good to express my views. Soon I was sending a few more to the different HMO – CEO’s territories. Like the vice president. Who ever I could find in the pecking order. My therapist did not discourage me in the least. My husband even took one of my packages to Vegas and mailed it from there. The strangest thing that came from this period of gift giving? It was reported back to my therapist at the time that I was one of 10 who they thought was sending the birds!!! 10??? I was mortified that there were 9 nuts out there and they could be in the waiting room that I had to sit in. I soon ended my therapy at that office!
I mentioned this to Enemy – just sending the gifts. He didn’t budge. No reaction. He wants a reaction from me and He doesn’t give me a reaction? He graduated in 1982. I was diagnosed Bipolar 1 in 1977. D.I.D. – If – in the 90’s … so I perhaps am more experienced at this than he. Hum. Maybe I should bring in a pile of money and say I’d rather go to Maine than walk into an office that is being bugged.
No – he’d like – a reaction!