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Any words of wisdom? —The Good Son A. rafe mair After Tom Cruise's spaztastic therapist-bashing meltdown last year, it's impossible to say anything negative about shrinks without people accusing you of being a closet Scientologist. But I'm going to risk rafe mair it: Fuck your therapist, TGS. She's not your parole officer—you don't have to do what she says and you're free to go find another therapist if she's pissing you off. If you don't want to screw up your relationship with your mother and if you really feel that this one hugely fucked up sexual encounter did not cause your rafe mair current problems (plenty of men who've never fucked their mothers have relationship problems), then your therapist should stop hectoring you and start listening to you. She may have your best interests at heart, and it may be what she, with her fancy education, sincerely thinks is best. But she could also be one of those conflict junkies who pass themselves off as therapists. Tell her for me that ripping open old wounds doesn't always lead to scenes of weepy reconciliation and newfound emotional health.
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