This is the day of the Celebrate the Small Things blog hop. And even though the fearless leader might be too ill to participate this week (prayers for her, please) I’m putting up a post and visiting some of the participants anyway.
Today I’m not posting from my own home. I had to come into town for an appointment, and stayed overnight at the home of my 90 year old mother.
My appointment was with my therapist, John Lindt. Besides being a licensed therapist, he also is a Protestant ordained minister, recently retired. We find a lot to talk about.
I originally started therapy because I needed someone to make an official diagnosis of my Asperger’s Syndrome. I continue because John’s a good guy to talk to.
Because I have Asperger’s Syndrome, I don’t have real-life friends. I don’t have a good enough relationship with any of my family, other than my mother, that they are willing to call me on the phone or want to talk to me if I called them. So, after my dad passed away, I had only one person to talk to IRL. And that’s not healthy.
John and I have a lot to talk about. We are both college-educated people. We also both have conservative political ideas. Sometimes John asks me about my opinion on stuff on the news— he’s interested in my sometimes-weird take on them.
We talk about things in my life (which I am not sharing) and other things. Yesterday’s session was taken up with talk about my new interest, psychology. Since he studied that in college, I thought he’d know some things, and he recommended an author to read (Viktor Frankel).
I find it very important to have this other voice in my life. Since my dad died I’ve had a problem in that my mom still knows how to press my buttons in order to try to force me to do everything in life her way. (As you can see, my mother never reads my blog.) She often acts as if the thing she wants to require me to do is the way every NORMAL person does things. It’s good to have John to talk to so he can reassure me that the way I do things is also valid and does not disprove my validity as a person.
Of course I know admitting I’m in therapy means that any lurking blog trolls can make fun of me for being ‘crazy.’ But, hey, people have been making fun of me all my life. I ignore it, mostly. And on a blog that means I don’t have to post the mean comments at all.
So, I’m celebrating my therapy and my therapist. And hoping all the other lonely people with Asperger’s Syndrome out there have good therapists to celebrate. Hint: if your current therapist is awful, thy a different one.