i think i'm death

weird things have been happening to me. things that you would think happen to psychotherapists all the time, but for some reason, haven't happened to me until lately. and no, i am not the grim reaper...the title refers to what the captain tends to call people who cannot hear.

yesterday happened to be a tuesday and a holiday. because of this, it was pouring down rain most of the day. however, there was a break in the clouds and the sun came out long enough to make the air hot and heavy with moisture. now, how many places on earth can boast a naturally occurring sauna? huh? huh?

anyway. my friend and i took our respective daughters to the neighborhood pool where we sat and swat (plural for "sweat") whilst the youngsters swam. my cell phone rang, but since i didn't recognize the number and i wasn't taking client calls on the holiday, i let it go to voice mail. a little later on, i heard the "you have a voice mail" alert, but didn't think much of it. in fact, i forgot all about it until this morning, when i decided to listen to the aforementioned voice mail.

first of all, let me tell you that this voice mail was at least 8.5 minutes long. really. i listened that long before i deleted it. it consisted of a male voice basically free associating (a.k.a. saying whatever comes to mind), interspersed with facts. for example: hey, yeah, doctor tigger [like i am even a doctor!], i saw your ad in the coffee house news. yeah, basically, from stress, you know. everyone has it. i mean stress. i have it. you have it. we all have it. so i want to talk about stress. and i need to switch my medication. your ad says bipolar disorder. that's what i have. i have medicaid. basically, i am poor. i have no car. no transportation. yep. stress management, you know what i mean? we come over here from new orleans, so my doctor ain't here. but you can be my doctor. i never even found out what this person's name or phone number was (not that i'd be inclined to return the call). just 8.5 minutes of more than i wanted to know about nothing. and let me make it clear that i happened to delete the call at the 8.5 minute mark - the caller was still talking.

but wait! there's more! my noon client decided he was going to commit hara-kiri in my office with a new pair of scissors. i politely asked him not to - beside the obvious fact that i don't want him to kill himself, other people's blood really grosses me out. he persisted to hold the scissors to his gut, and it pissed me off. give me the scissors, g*d dammit! i screamed at him. i never say g*d dammit. i lunged for them and grabbed them, but not before they had pierced his skin. he rubbed his belly and said ow! those are sharp! he obviously hasn't been well-trained in hara-kiri if he expected a dull instrument to do the trick. fortunately, the incident led to a productive discussion about "cries for help" and the secondary gains that suicidal gestures bring.

i think i am about ready to change professions. i can type and am computer literate - maybe i can find something in data entry where i can sit alone in a back room somewhere. i'll pretend i am death so no one will try to talk to me. i know a few gestures that should keep people away.