So in my first two months at the mental health clinic,
I am dissatisfied with both my psychiatrist and my psychologist.

The psychiatrist, I have completely given up on.
I don't answer his phone messages now.
No doubt he is still being paid, but I'm not showing up.
And that is about to happen with the psychologist/psychotherapist as well.

I surprise myself doing this.
I didn't know I had it in me.
Many are the times that I have just turned tail and run away from a situation -- I've done that more times than I can count.
This may appear similar, only it feels different to me.
I don't want to leave the clinic now,
and this doesn't take into account
the crisis in the world which is changing everything for everyone.

When my psychotherapist, this week, expects me for the customary appointment
-- in the clinic procedure, these appointments are several times every week
-- I have news for her.
I am going to tell her in so many words:
Your heart is not in your work with me.
Where your heart is, and what you have a heart for,
is your affair.
And it isn't my job to make it any different for you.
You go right on pretending that you are all there,
when in fact you are putting on an act, a performance,
which is empty inside, which has no heart,
and you will lose me, sooner rather than later.
I don't want you taking up any more of my time
with hollow, empty talk.
If you won't meet my needs, somebody else will.

My case conference, which was maybe two weeks ago,
appears to me, now, in an entirely different light.
No wonder I felt such anguish during and after the conference.
No wonder I could not help breaking down and crying.
No wonder it hurt so bad.
I feel an utter fool for not having realized all this much sooner.