The roids are not making me want to clean, sadly.

And yeah, sj, you should do it yourself. Suggestion? Write a script out beforehand. And if she gets pushy, pull a Bartleby the Scrivener: "I prefer not to." And remember, you can ALWAYS hang up.

Can you email her?

She can't grab you through the phone. But I have to admit, over time, I've developed a real comfort level with not being liked by certain people. (Who needs the esteem of a therapist that sucks? I guess she could mess with your head, but apparently not sufficiently, right?)

erikaj for the win

Strix, even walking for a block or two, then sitting outside for a while can help. At least, it helps me -- your mental makeup may vary.

I think watching Ari Gold push people around for years changed me. Although I have never threatened anyone close to me with internment. Although life is long, I suppose. Seriously, though, don't engage. Just "broken-record it" like you are delivering a message about the time. You're done, that's it. If she needed to switch health plans, and dump you, she wouldn't feel that badly about it.

Prednisone. Ugh. The five days I spent on 'roids have given me a great deal of sympathy for those who have to deal with them frequently (and bewilerment for those who choose to).

I had a new violent symptom each day. The prior one(s) would eventually fade out, but they could pop up at any time. IIRC, it went starving, horny, itchy, ragey, and sobby. Worst. Dwarves. Ever.

My favorite Ari quote that I use in real life is "Could you just die, Bob? Is that something you'd be interested in?"(On a tangent, but mad props to Martin Landau for being excellent as Bob. Because Bob is annoying and kind of a joke, but you get the pathos of a guy whose world has totally moved on without him and that just kills me.) Yes, I spent a whole episode of that Selfridge movie waiting for Piven to trail his wife calling "Baby!" while she calls him "Little department-store boy,"

Man, I loved my last course of steroids. I felt invincible.

Also I ate everything that resembled food. But in an invincible way.

She can't grab you through the phone. But I have to admit, over time, I've developed a real comfort level with not being liked by certain people. (Who needs the esteem of a therapist that sucks? I guess she could mess with your head, but apparently not sufficiently, right?)

I don't care if she likes me or not, it's not that. It's hard to explain why I find confrontation so uncomfortable.

Man, I loved my last course of steroids. I felt invincible.

TeppyHulk Smash!