Therapists: Vanguards of Misery

I don’t trust therapists.

Too many therapists get into therapy because they want to fix their own problems. That’s like me becoming a lawyer because I need to defend myself against multiple homicides.

And, most people are idiots. This implies that most therapists are idiots. Unfortunately, they are idiots that have business cards.

I’ve noticed lately a strong practice of therapists that appear to believe in the “don’t rock the boat” mechanics of life. I’ve heard this reported from numerous clients and friends, mostly of the wealthy set, which leads me to believe that therapists have a vested interest in their clients remaining irredeemably broken.

“I was going to get a divorce,” reports a friend, “but my therapist says that as long as you’re happy 3 days out of 7 days out of the week, it’s better than average. Getting a divorce would make me unhappy more days out of the week than that.”

This makes total sense, as it’s far better to languish quietly over decades than to invest time and energy into taking control over your own life. Keep in mind that we are now taking advice from people who had enough psychological problems to want to spend years researching them, but not enough intelligence or motivation to get a real degree.

3 days out of the week? Is that really the average? What’s wrong with us? You do realize you live on an energy grid and have clean running water?

Are there really people out there thinking “I’m only miserable most of my life, but not all of my life, so it’s OK.” I mean, 3 days out of the week isn’t even a majority of the time!  You are consigning yourself to experiencing happiness 42% of your life. That means if you live 60 more years, 34 of them are going to suck.

“Well I’m putting my child in maintenance therapy because I feel like he’s going to get teased in high school.”

What kind of bullshit is maintenance therapy? Who the hell came up with the idea that “you know, even when people don’t need therapy, they really might?” It’s not like I pop two advil in the morning every morning in case I get a headache.

Maintenance therapy is only another way that helicopter parents worm their greasy daddy-approval-seeking little hands into their child’s mind.

If your child wasn’t going to get teased before, he sure as hell is when he walks up to the school bully and says “I feel that you have a lot of pent up inner aggression. How is everything going at home, buddy? Anything you want to share? This is a safe space.”

The world is not a goddamn safe space and your child had better get used to it now.

Hell, it’d be more worthwhile to throw the little bastard in anti-therapy. That’s character building. I think it’s called sports, and you just hit stuff a lot. I’m not talking just about male kids, either. My childhood would have been so much better if someone had given me a bat and aimed me at something.

What’s great is that by exposing our children to these emotional predators, we create an entire generation that’s going to have a crippling inability to make any decisions whatsoever without consulting their therapists. And then those therapists will raise their children. And their children. It’s a self sustaining industry based on the blind leading the blind.

Over a cliff of passive misery.

When did we decide not only to accept this, but to intentionally subject ourselves to it? Do we really want to maintain the illusion that life is really that hard? Because it’s not, actually, that hard.

You know what’s hard? Sifting through garbage to find old nokia phones and jewelry to strip any alloy out of them so that maybe, just maybe, your family can have a piece of bread that week.

But somehow those people seem to exist just fine without therapy, because they’re not spending 90% of their time sitting at a desk thinking about their bullshit problems.

But see, it’s natural. It’s natural to complain. It’s natural to be frustrated. And that’s OK. But therapists not only help this feeling, they encourage it. Therapists think that if you’re happy, you’re hiding something.

Having a therapist is like having someone who pours hot sauce down your throat whenever you’re not having indigestion.

They take a problem that exists naturally, and refine it into an art form, and then perpetuate it.

And that’s why I don’t agree with court ordered therapy.