Sometimes I say self loathing things to my therapist and he looks at me dead in the eyes before saying “You fucking moron.” and tbh same
Me: I think I don’t exist.
Therapist: Listen, you do exist, and if you didn’t, someone would have to create you because the world would be a much sadder place.
Me: Jerome, how dare you saying something so sweet when I’m dissociating.
Me: Honestly, (thing that is totally fucked up for any ‘sane’ person) is normal, right?
Therapist: No.
Me: Wow.
Therapist: You’re just a fucked up bitch.
Me: I do agree with the fucked up bitch part.
Therapist: That’s a start!
Me: I guess he’s still my friend?
Therapist: Considering what you told me and how much you wanna beat him to death, he’s not. You pretty much hate him despite knowing him for years.
Me:
Me: Why did I need to come here to realize that.
Therapist: Because that’s my job to help you to understand some stuff. Also because you’re way too kind and you would let someone punch you in the guts and still consider them as your friend while they stab you.
Me: I don’t need that kind of call out, Jerome.
Me: Hey, I brought you coffee. And croissants too, but I ate them. *puts Starbucks coffee in front of him*
Therapist: Oh that’s nice!!... Oh my name is on it!!
Me: Yeah!!
Therapist: It’s wholesome but... *very confused and silently*... How do I drink it?
Me, not being able to come to my appointment and having to call him: I’m sorry, it’s all my fault, I’m so so so sorr-
Therapist: I dare you to say sorry one more time. I dare you.
Therapist: Hey I wanna show you this super funny image I found the other day.
Me: What-
Therapist: *turns his screen and show me THIS*
Me:
Me: Jerome.
Therapist: You went to the gaypride?
Me: Yeah, I went.
Therapist: Was it something you enjoyed?
Me: Mh. Yeah. Sorta.
Therapist: Did you see some bears?
Me:
Me: Jerome wh-
Therapist: That’s the only term I know outside of the LGTB one, I wanted to use it.
Therapist: Are you sure you’re not becoming roommate with (name) because of pity? Kinda sacrificing yourself?
Me: No, I want it!!
Therapist: Finally, you’re not forcing yourself for the others! And you’re doing something you want! I’m proud of you!
Me: You’re more of a dad than my own father.
Therapist: That’s not very hard.
Me: I always wondered, are you queer?
Therapist: I am not.
Me: Ooh.
Therapist: Or am I?
Me: Ooh!
As an update, Jerome gave my appointment to someone’s else today so we were both in the waiting room, confused and he walked in, patted my head and said sorry but honestly it was hilarious.
The secretary came to tell me that Jerome actually forgot to write me down on the appointment list.
This is a 100% normal situation with Jerome as my Therapist.
As an addition, more than half of my friends want Jerome to adopt me and refer to him as “Therapist dad”.
He’s aware of it and think it’s hilarious.
Me, after complaining for the 25 times about my birth father: Idk if you noticed, but I’m full of anger against him.
Therapist: Oh, really, I never noticed. You know, you should turn that anger into indifference. It would help you.
Me: Unholy gods, I wish it was me.
Therapist: You know, people will still love you even if you don’t offer them things all the time. You don’t have to do that.
Me: What??
Therapist: Why don’t you send a mail to your psychiatrist when you have a bad mood swing?
Me: Like what? ‘Hey Joël wassup, I’ve been very suicidal lately last night I wanted to die. Hope you have rad vacations and the weed is good save some good kush for me, kissy kissy.’ ?
Therapist: Exactly.
Me: You’re as bad as me with human interactions Jerome, y’know.
Me, heavily dissociating: I don’t exist-
Therapist: Can I touch you to prove you that you do?
Me: Dinner first.
Therapist:
Therapist: Damien, you moron.
Therapist: You need vacations.
Me: I’m broke.
Therapist: Oh yeah.
Therapist: You still need vacations tho.
Me: Jerome, I am still broke.
Me, by text: Hey, you just walk by me!
Therapist, by text: Oh sorry. I didn’t see you.
Therapist, by text: Wait. Were you at the tattoo shop?
Me, by text, totally at the tattoo shop: You have no proof.
For a bit of context here: Around two months ago I went to a friend’s who happened the live on the same street as Jerome, which I didn’t know. He was really surprised to see me and came to check on me, asking me why I was here with a bit of concern on his voice. And this take place earlier this month:
Therapist: So your friend lives in the same street than I?
Me: Yes. Town’s short I guess.
Therapist: Were you really going to your friend...?
Me: Yes?? Why else would I be here?
Therapist: A lot of drug deals happen in this street and I see often teenagers and young adults coming and buy stuffs. I was a bit worried for you.
Jerome is beautiful I want a Jerome in my life
