My Therapist 5

My therapist does not want to tell me
that he thinks
I am making no sense
even when I ask him directly.

“Am I making sense?” I ask,
over and again,
striving to convince him
to be honest with me
for at least one fucking second.
He does not respond.

“Is there a stutter?” I wonder,
as I cajole,
begging in repetition,
for the good doctor
to express his opinion
in a clear and concrete way
I can understand.
I try again.
“Can you repeat back to me
just what it is
I am getting at?”

He takes a breath
looks me in the eye
and states
“As I was saying…”
But I won’t have it.

“I don’t think
you were answering my question before.
Would you like to try
now
to tell me
What I mean?”

He doesn’t like to be interrupted
but he is patient
and remains calm
and then tries a different tack.
“If you just keep taking your -”

“Is it possible
you weren’t paying attention?”
I suggest.
“I’m just asking you,
as well as I am currently able,
if you understand what I’m saying
and whether you agree or not.”

“The important thing,”
he replies,
“Is what you think about it.”

“No,” I disagree.
“At this moment
it is vitally important
for me to figure out
if I am speaking gibberish
or if you disagree
and don’t want to tell me
or if you think
that what I said
was so idiotic
that it doesn’t warrant even being responded to.

“Right now
the utmost importance goes to
whether we are communicating,
you and I,
and what that communication is worth.”

He sighs
sits upright and says,
“I did not understand what you said.
It did not make sense
and you would not let me politely decline to respond.
Are you satisfied
with the results of this conversation?”

I stand
wild-eyed, triumphant.
“I win!” I shout
and then return to earth.

I don’t remember
the rest of the session.

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One Response to My Therapist 5

  1. Elva says:

    Wow, Jon! Pretty heavy. Strong inditement on the process of therapy .

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