I hate therapists. Bastards. They are in it for the money. And to assuage their own demons.

You can tell what kind of psychosis haunts your therapist, by what they see as "wrong" in you.

My last therapist was insanely self-aware. EVERY meeting we had, he blamed my uncomfort on something inanely trivial. Like him being 5 minutes late. Who cares? I expect most doctors to be running atleast 20 minutes late. I thought he was early. He was an impersonal piece of medical technology, to me. My day to day life has far more impact on my mental well-being (or lack thereof), than the 5 minutes I spent waiting. Hmmm. Self-fulfilling prophecy, by the time I stopped going to see him, I did find him annoying.

I'm one of those people, who was a child of one of those people, who in the 70's, were the ones who believed in the psychology-lifestyle. Think Woody-Allen-neurosis, mixed with a liberal dose of that old-time-baptist religion. It allowed the concept of guilt to be taken to new heights. Not only were you born bad and damned to hell, but now you could spend an hour each week, talking to someone who encouraged you to find new faults in yourself.

I'd say more, but I have to go lay down and try to live thru the withdrawl effects of the psychologists panacea, the anti-depressant.