T(uesday) is for Therapy

Back in college, Tuesday was Taco Night in the dining hall. But now, Tex Mex Tuesday really only means one thing to me: therapy. Yes, I am one of those people who tells my “analyst” more than I tell my friends and has been known to think things (sometimes out loud) like “wait until I tell my therapist about this!” and “I don’t know if I can talk to [fill in name] until I talk to my therapist first.” It’s a little weird and scary, but at the same time it makes me more self-aware than the majority of you non-therapy-goers, and ensures I don’t go crazy.
Anyway, Tuesdays, the day of my standing weekly appointment, can be a little nerve-wracking, because I know after work I’m going to have to go spill my guts, which is much harder than going home and watching So You Think You Can Dance (um, just kidding, I would never watch that show...unless it was during the open auditions period when all the bad dancers come on). Not only that, but I feel an immense pressure to be interesting. I go in there and gripe about my job, all the while picturing my therapist’s next patient has been a victim of incest or something else that lets her really stretch her psychiatric skills.
So every Tuesday, unless something noteworthy has happened in the last week, I grabble with coming up with something interesting to talk about. Sometimes during the week I even think, well, if I do this I can at least talk about it therapy. Especially if it involves a guy, because the only person who gets more excited than me about a new love interest is my therapist, who’s like a girlfriend being all like, “tell me alllllll the details!” And I always do.