Embarrassment > frugality
My therapist takes the month of August off. It's a glorious month. I get to sleep in late (since my crazy hours at work require me to meet her in the morning), I don't have to rack my brain thinking of something to discuss at our next session, but most importantly, I save myself several hundred bucks that would undoubtedly equal the monthly rent of a luxury studio in any city but New York.
I've been feeling a lot like my old self lately (i.e., cheap and lazy). The idea of paying a three-digit sum to have someone listen to me talk for 45 minutes (yes, you read that right... our sessions don't even last an hour!) after rousing my amorphous blob of a body out of my ridiculously comfortable bed on a weekly basis (particularly in this time of extreme financial crisis) just seems really absurd. In fact, when my therapist forgot our about session in the first week of this month, I was actually pretty thrilled that I got to "save" some extra cash and practically skipped to my office.
I mean... does she not realize that there are some uncomfortably long silences in our sessions because I have nothing more to say?
Anyway, since I am a coward, I really wasn't looking forward to suggesting that we start meeting every other week. I mean, I still like her a lot, and I think it's helpful to talk to a "neutral" party. Plus I figure that our sessions would probably have more depth since I would have more to discuss if I had two weeks' worth of self-pity to complain about. (Not to mention that my monthly bill would be cut in half.)
When I mentioned this at the end of our last session, she asked, "Why?" I feebly muttered something about the difficulty of getting up in the morning (which, believe me, is not something to be taken lightly, as any one of my former roommates could attest) although honestly I'd rather just save a few bucks. My therapist then said something about therapy being a continuous process and how it wouldn't be a good idea to break up sessions. (Well, of course she thinks that. She just sits and gets paid a ton of money!) I was too embarrassed to just admit that I didn't want to pay extra money, so I just agreed.
I suck.
-----
Note: I did think briefly of switching to another therapist who would be okay with biweekly sessions. But then I realized that it would probably take like at least three sessions to repeat my life story. And because we were meeting biweekly, it would probably take like an extra month or two for my life story to stick. And that alone would be pretty costly.
Fact: I do have insurance. But the good therapists don't take it.
Conclusion: I should've become a therapist. You get so much money for doing what girls with insecure and whiny friends do all the time for free!
I've been feeling a lot like my old self lately (i.e., cheap and lazy). The idea of paying a three-digit sum to have someone listen to me talk for 45 minutes (yes, you read that right... our sessions don't even last an hour!) after rousing my amorphous blob of a body out of my ridiculously comfortable bed on a weekly basis (particularly in this time of extreme financial crisis) just seems really absurd. In fact, when my therapist forgot our about session in the first week of this month, I was actually pretty thrilled that I got to "save" some extra cash and practically skipped to my office.
I mean... does she not realize that there are some uncomfortably long silences in our sessions because I have nothing more to say?
Anyway, since I am a coward, I really wasn't looking forward to suggesting that we start meeting every other week. I mean, I still like her a lot, and I think it's helpful to talk to a "neutral" party. Plus I figure that our sessions would probably have more depth since I would have more to discuss if I had two weeks' worth of self-pity to complain about. (Not to mention that my monthly bill would be cut in half.)
When I mentioned this at the end of our last session, she asked, "Why?" I feebly muttered something about the difficulty of getting up in the morning (which, believe me, is not something to be taken lightly, as any one of my former roommates could attest) although honestly I'd rather just save a few bucks. My therapist then said something about therapy being a continuous process and how it wouldn't be a good idea to break up sessions. (Well, of course she thinks that. She just sits and gets paid a ton of money!) I was too embarrassed to just admit that I didn't want to pay extra money, so I just agreed.
I suck.
-----
Note: I did think briefly of switching to another therapist who would be okay with biweekly sessions. But then I realized that it would probably take like at least three sessions to repeat my life story. And because we were meeting biweekly, it would probably take like an extra month or two for my life story to stick. And that alone would be pretty costly.
Fact: I do have insurance. But the good therapists don't take it.
Conclusion: I should've become a therapist. You get so much money for doing what girls with insecure and whiny friends do all the time for free!
posted by Anny at 11:17 PM
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