So I have a crush on my therapist and I don’t know if I ought to tell them or not. I am aware that this situation is stupid. While on the outside it may look like I’m genuinely engaged with our session, and I might seem to be fully present while sharing the intricacies of my amazing new Six-Stage, Improvised, I-Ching-Inspired Journalling Technique for Initiating with Calcified Trauma, but, on the inside, I’m going “Hey Dr.SuspiciouslyHotForAPHD. Won’t you look at me pls. Don’t I introspect so good? Don’t you love how I scrutinize implicit, long-held, and deeply-ingrained assumptions without rejecting my inherent self worth? Won’t you pat me on the head and tell me I’m a good patient who is making so much progress??”. Its a wee bit sad. A smidgen pathetic.
On the flip-side, however, I’ve actually got the motivation to fill out this ACT workbook I bought now. Having a stupid crush gives me that little impetus I need to actually begin working on projects. I’m making more significant progress than I have in years, but its only because there is an irrepressible part of me that keeps imagining my therapist eating a warm flan out of a french cruller. Its gross. I’m gross and healthy.