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This Therapy Life

@thistherapylife / thistherapylife.tumblr.com

I’m a therapist, not your therapist.
She/they
Gifs, humor, and therapist type things.
Most of the humor is therapist-side related so use your own judgement about following.
This tumblr is for educational and entertainment purposes — this is not substitute for professional therapy. I will follow all legal/ethical requirements of my state of practice. All client information is either anonymousized or a composite.
If you are a fellow mental health worker, feel free to message me!
ASKS ARE CURRENTLY *temporarily open* Asking a question does not guarantee an answer and I reserve the right to delete asks for any reason. All original writing, including answers to asks, are the sole property of @thistherapy. Most things may be shared with attribution.
I will not respond to any actively suicidal asks (i.e. "I'm going to kill myself") or requests that appear to be requesting therapeutic services.
THIS IS NOT A CRISIS RESOURCE.
I will delete ALL inappropriate asks without reading them. I block anyone who attempts to dox me, threaten me, or send sexual content.
If you feel like you are going to harm yourself, http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/ has both online and phone support. The national suicide hotline number is 1-800-273-8255.

Replacing the cops with social workers without intense work is dangerous

I feel the need to address the posts I've seen recently calling for the replacement of cops with social workers. We need to abolish the police BUT that doesn't mean social workers and therapists are exempt from racism and upholding white supremacy.

I’ve experienced substantial micro aggression and straight up racism as a white presenting woman. It has been much, much worse for my Black and Latinx Colleagues.

My last non profit was racist and ableist. I felt the HR manager in tears at my exit interview. There is still rage because there are rarely consequences for white people in positions of power and there is very real Blacklash to the Black people who attempt to point it out. These aren’t even people with the power to remove kids or housing but the power trips were so impressive. I remember being told we need to take Black and Latinx kids to pick fruit in the hot sun in the summer with no space for why that might be a problem. Couldn’t understand why migrant worker parents would be angry or upset. Or Black parents. I saw Black women pass over for promotions or told they were unprofessional. I’ve seen white eyes rolled and concerns dismissed. Beyond personal experience - Black, indigenous and Latinx families were frequently labeled as resistant and unable to change. There was always appropriate lip service to “engagement” and “connecting” and cultural “competency” (not humility). There are people who work in these systems (mental health, healthcare, education) who are content to be passive and maintain the status quo.

Many (most?) these non profits are actively harmful for communities. Giving a child with chronic and extensive trauma and attachment disruptions a new therapist every school year is cruelty. Having so many white savior therapists flood communities of color with the “desire to fix” is harmful. Not being actively and aggressively anti racist is injurious. “Saving people” is deadly. People usually don’t need to be saved - they need the right supports.

There is not an institution that exists in the United States was not build upon racist foundations. There is no institution that exists without or apart from racism. These structures have to be rethought, redrawn, reshaped, rebuilt. White people in social and health services can be so destructive. There have been moments when I’ve known I had the power to ruin someone’s life. I made a choice in, what I hope, in the best interest of the client but I KNEW it was a life changing moment where I had to color outside the narrow Eurocentric white therapy lines. There have been times when I put myself at personal or professional risk because it was the right thing to do. I was told I was doing “too much” like it was “private practice.” With the implication being that poor kids and families shouldn't have access to that level of support. I have knowledge of Black families and lives because of my own family that other white therapists don’t have because there is not the pressing need to learn these things - esp in MFT programs.

There are amazing BIPOC social workers out there doing amazing work. Some white accomplices out there too. We need to look to mutual aid in the community. We need to decolonize our therapy practices. We need to listen to Black therapists. We need to listen to Latinx therapists. We need to listen to disabled therapist. We need to listen to queer therapists. We need to hear clients. We need to hear community organizers. There are mutual aid groups, likely in your community. There is a movement to decolonize therapy. I can see how it could be different but there is A LOT of work to do to combat racism that doesn't stop with abolishing the police.

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life actually gets better when you leave the house consistently btw like im serious

if you don't know where to go, just wander! go to the store and don't buy anything, go to the library just to sit and do whatever you were going to do at home, go to a park and just walk around/sit outside for a bit (weather permitting, of course)

just put some headphones in and walk around the block a couple times if you really have nothing else to do, just getting a bit of air and change of scenery is so good for you

me the first few weeks of forcing myself to go on daily walks (it gets better tho)

i really need tumblr to learn the concept of “if you physically cannot do this then this post is not talking about you” because jesus christ.

around when I first started dating my boyfriend i bought myself this novelty blanket that looks like a photorealistic tortilla because I am SUCH A SUCKER for novelty shit. when he saw it in person for the first time his eyes lit up, which should have been a warning sign for the indignities to come.

so he’s a first responder and his day shifts start obnoxiously early as far as I, a pampered corporate asshole, am concerned. almost invariably when he’s at my place there will be an alarm at an hour that is downright unconscionable that will make him wake up and roll out of bed to get ready and will simultaneously make me burrow under the pillows grumbling about how surely nobody actually NEEDS their lives saved this early in the morning, after which I will promptly attempt to go back to sleep

he is a clever man and he knows this is when i am most vulnerable to attack.

every single time we do this dance, he quietly dresses, packs up, goes about getting ready to leave, and then when i have juuuust fallen back asleep, he returns with the tortilla blanket. He finds it no matter where I have hidden it.

He then creeps silently up to my side of the bed and uses his superior speed, strength, and reflexes to wrap me up in it incredibly tightly while i am still dazed and sputtering, so that i cannot move my legs or arms and am reduced to humiliating halfhearted magikarp flops that do not deter him from at least attempting to kiss my forehead.

then he goes to my bedroom door, opens it, then pauses, turns around, looks at me, the soft human filling of the facsimile of an enormous burrito he has just constructed, and says in his best romantic lead voice “I’ll see you soon, beans.”

you cannot understand how devastating it is to my ego that i am beans.

oh also sometimes he takes a snap of me flailing in my tortilla prison and then sends it to me only after he has left my apartment building and has gotten into his car

this means in practice that i get a snap notification just when i have managed to free myself, and i open it up expecting some cute shit… and then I have to relive the indignity all over again but with the additional burden of knowing just how hilarious this all looks from his point of view

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“Oh that animal doesn’t LIKE you it just TOLERATES you” …..So? If that’s the most a non-social organism can feel towards you isn’t that just as special an honor as whatever it is you think affection means??

“This creature with no natural social instincts outside of mating allows me to freely interact with it, while causing it little stress” is fucking DOPE AS SHIT

also… are you SURE? like, we’re still finding out so much about animals. Wolverines fathers, who we thought were not involved in caring for kits, turn out to travel around and collect all their kits from multiple mothers and take the whole group out on camping trips. Some spiders have tiny frog pets (!) or group up to communally raise their young. Wild sharks, crocodiles, and snakes have formed strong, documented relationships with people. 

this man Gilberto (Chito) Shedden nursed this crocodile back to health after it was shot in the eye, and they were best friends for the rest of the crocodile’s life.

this python came in out of the wild as a baby snake and curled up next to the family’s infant, Oun Sam­bat (or Oeun Sambat?) and they were inseparable for 12 years

Cristina Zenato removes hooks from sharks and they let her stick her hand down their throat to do it and they even bring other sharks who need help to see her.

It’s a relationship that goes beyond a single helpful interaction. For example one of the sharks that would show up when she first started swimming with them was a shark she called Foggy Eye who really didn’t like to be touched. One day, Foggy Eye showed up with a hook in her mouth that Cristina Zenato removed, and ever after, Foggy Eye cuddles when she visits, putting her head in Cristina’s lap and enjoying some petting

 We don’t know SO much. Some wolf spiders will adopt unrelated orphaned spiderlings and raise them. We recently discovered that the ant-mimicking jumping spider (below) produces “milk” and suckles its young until they are nearly fully grown.

SO. Don’t assume we know all about what creatures do or feel or whether or not they form social connections or bond with others.

We’re told octopuses are solitary.

That’s the story.

They live alone. They die alone.

Except for Octopus City where they live in a social collective.

Except that I watched with my own fucking eyes a giant Northwest Pacific Octopus who my friend social for an aquariums interact. He hadn’t seen her in a year. He reacted to meeting us and to getting treats? But all he wanted to do was see her, touch her, show her his enrichment items. After a year he recognized her and the response was “YOUR BACK AUNTIE YOURE BACK I MISSED YOU LOOK WHAT I WAS DOING WHAT DO YOU THINK BUT YOURE BACK hi nice to meet your friends YOURE BACK.”

Fucking yeah ok 👍 solitary nonsocial. Idk. If it acts like it loves you then it does. In its way.

The guy who literally wrote the book on wolf social hierarchies realized like pretty soon after publishing that he was completely wrong because he had only been studying animals in captivity, but the erroneous information on “alphas” captured men’s imagination so they still cling to it despite it being just flat out wrong - according to the guy who CAME UP WITH THE THEORY so you know it’s legit. Europeans who first encountered the platypus assumed it was a hoax. Knowledge is seeking the limits of our species’ understanding of the universe Wisdom is looking PAST the limits of our knowledge and staying fucking humble about everything we don’t know.

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Which is why it’s important to not be mean.

Their cult teaches them that the world is full of scary monster people who hate them for being so good and loved by god. If you swear at them and call them names or get in their face you’re just doing the cults work for it.

I’m not saying you have to listen to their presentation or try to debate them (and really getting into a debate without thoroughly understanding what they’re being taught will just make things worse)… I am just saying to be polite and say no thank you like if they were trying to hand you a flyer for something you don’t care about.

It’s easier for them to see the world outside their bubble as less scary if they see everyday people just going about their business and being as nice to them as you are to everyone else. This goes doubly for anyone who happens to dress modestly, not swear, and not drink or smoke because whatever you believe, they’ll see you as a “good” person who happens to strangely have no interest in their “message”, and that might be enough to get some curious about the possibility of themselves living in the real world.

It’s sometimes hard to be nice to people who seem to represent something you dislike. Just remember these “elders” are sheltered young men, some of which are getting their first real contact with people of other/no faiths.

They are not your enemy. They are victims.

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They aren't being sent out to actually convert people, they are being sent out hoping that they will be harassed and treated poorly so they view those outside the cult as dangerous and evil and stick to the safety of the familiar group.

You being mean to some teenager isn't sticking it to anyone, you're doing exactly what their church elders want to happen.

PLEASE READ THIS.

Please read this.

Don't do the church's work for them.

If you're kind to enough of them, they put you on a block list.

They were such sweet kids, they'd turn up at my door with the thatch of raspberries out front and try to share their word with me, and I'm me, so, I fed them.

Then it was one of the wee 'elder's' birthday, so I made him a cake, and all the little lads came, and they asked about my books and board games and CCGs, I was just a nice frumpy middle aged Jewish lady, I was no threat, so I fed them and made them cakes and took them to the local gaming store and listened when they talked.

One loved yu-gi-oh cards, and it turns out, one of the other wee lads, we'll he loved him back, so I got them in touch with some resources so they had support and a different way to pay for college, they're still together 15 years later, they have dogs, they send me ecards on their birthday. No-one figured out I'd.helped them, I was just the nice lady who made them tea and listened when people were slamming doors.

The next one really wanted to be an artist, so I left out art books and resources, my eldest shared their coptic markers, they draw comic books now, no idea why his folks were insisting he needed to be a dentist, but, he's not a Mormon anymore, (not a Jew either before anyone makes any counter conversion claims).

The first 2 lads were the only dramatic ones, the rest went back into the network but, like Hugh of Borg, they spread the word, sometimes I'd get Mormons from other cities come and make the journey to break bread at my Sabbath table and be seen.

I still think very fondly of that time.

Many of those boys still email me now and then.

Most of them aren't Mormons anymore.

Someone higher up spotted the pattern and suddenly no more Mormons at my door.

I was blacklisted, for kindness.

So there you go, if you don't want Mormons at your door, just love those kids for a couple of years, feed them, help them, and eventually, no more will be allowed to visit

Ah yes tumblr’s ability to expose your heart fully in a series of reblogs

my mom’s been telling me my entire life she and my dad met at a bar which BOOOO BORING but today she just casually mentions actually she placed a fuckin ad in the newspaper saying she was ‘a single lady ready to meet the one’ and he was the first to call her and they dated over the phone for like three months before they met n she was like “i was already pretty much in love with him because i adored his laugh on the phone” ????? What kinda 90s romcom bullshit

btw the first time they met in person apparently was because my grandpa fuckin uhhh died? and my dad called my mom inconsolable and she went over to console him and literally just kinda ?? never left???? ehakdhskdhskfjdkdh this bitch’s been telling me they very casually met at a bar can you beLEAF no wonder me and my brother were born fuckin drama queens

me: so you placed an ad? in the newspaper? telling men who were interested in fathering children a beautiful woman to call you? like a person advertising property they want to sell?

my mom, pokerfaced: yes that is exactly what i did

me: mom.

mom: it’s not that different from tinder!

me: you know i read a fanfic once where that was the exact plot of how the two characters met. except it was set in the nineteenth century!!!

mom:

mom: bet you thought it was hot

me: NOT THE POINT

apparently. when they had their very first date my dad mentioned his daughter (my sister on his side) and my mom was like :( because she really wanted children and he just patted her hand and was like “don’t worry! we’ll have children of our own.” HDLSHDSKDHDK THE AUDACITY OF THIS MAN? ON THEIR FIRST DATE??? HELLO?

me: so dad what did you think about mom’s ad in the newspaper

my dad, curt: it was cool i guess.

me:

me: did you not think it was weird at all? why did you call her specifically and not anyone else?

dad: no it was common back then. idk i liked the font she chose for the ad

my mom, from the kitchen: it was standard issue from the paper for the ads to look like that

dad: oh… guess it was fate then :)

me:

dad:

mom:

me: did you feel that? did you feel the breeze that just passed?

dad: yeah?

me: that was because mom just melted in the kitchen

mom, from the kitchen, voice clearly a little choked: NO I DID NOT

OK WAIT SO IF POC GET STRICTER SENTENCES IN COURT… AND IF WOC ARE MORE AT RISK OF MISCARRIAGE AND GENERAL MALPRACTICE… AND IF SEX EDUCATION IS WORSE IN INNER CITY PUBLIC SCHOOLS… AND IF RACIAL HOUSING DISCRIMINATION IS PRACTICED BY 85% OF REAL ESTATE AGENTS… AND IF SCHOOL DISTRICTS ARE FUNDED VIA PROPERTY TAXES WITHIN EACH DISTRICT… HOLD ON………. WAIT A MINUTE

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This is what we mean by systemic racism

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my dad took some ancestry tests and eventually found out who his father was (and that he has 5+ siblings who are also finding all of this out) and honestly it's been pretty bizarre and emotional so far, naturally

but one of the biggest changes for me is no longer having to give the whole spiel of "oh i know i'm racially ambiguos but hey there's a whole story behind it because this that and here's my father's backstory"

like no i... i just have a grandpa from Nigeria now

...that's way less mysterious >:(

Congratudolences OP, your family are hilarious

World’s colliding here

the funniest thing ever just happened to me

im changing my name purely bc i don’t like it and we just told my family like a month ago. i haven’t been home since then but today i got back and my (extremely country) uncle gives me a pat on the back and goes “so i hear you’re my nephew now. proud of you, son” and i have to very gently say i am so so happy to hear that but i am still his niece just with a cooler name. and he throws his hat down on the table and goes “no! but ive been practicing!” so now he is calling me his nephew for fun

i feel like every human should max out at one disability or chronic illness. like when i hit adolescence and my brain chemistry went “bipolar time now?” the response should have been an error message like sorry! this slot can only contain one (1) item and has been filled with childhood asthma. i would even allow the possibility that you can overwrite previous disorders like “you have equipped chronic migraines and so no will no longer display symptoms of bipolar disorder.” i just think it should work that way.

Much better stats system tbh

I suppose I should have guessed that offhandedly mentioning my father was in several year feud with a parrot in the tags of that post would make my inbox go nova.

Anyway, my dad was involved in a feud with an African Grey parrot for several years. No one knows how said parrot came to be in our Scottish village, it simply showed up one day at the rescue and the local hairdresser, Sharron, adopted it. 

Now if you don’t know much about African Greys, they’re chatty buggers. They’re also wicked smart and incredible mimics. Which was how Marty the Parrot became an infamous feature of our wee town; frequently escaping his enclosure to perch above the barbershop door, hurling Scottish colloquialisms at unsuspecting tourists and whistling the ice cream truck song whenever kids walked past. One time, some construction workers drilled through the water pipe that ran through the village square, and above the roar of water spewing forth into the street and alarmed swearing, Marty could be heard cackling like a demon through the window. Right until the water reached the barbershop door and flooded the ground floor room he was sitting in, and then he started screaming, “help! help! murder murder polis*!”** until he was rescued and offered a plain digestive biscuit. 

After that and many, many more escape attempts and being asked politely by the local tourist board if Marty could stop telling hikers to “away and pish!” Sharron took him to see some sort of bird whisperer who told her Marty was lonely and needed company. So she moved his cage into the barbershop during the day so he could see and talk to her and the customers. 

Which is where my dad comes in.

You should know that my dad is the epitome of a wee auld Scottish granda. He’s had a full head of white hair since his early forties, and wouldn’t look out of place in a Norman Rockwell painting in Norman Rockwell ever took a wander doon the Barras and got swindled into buying a TV that quite-very-probably fell off the back of a truck. He’s got the gift for the gab, and everyone likes him. Sometimes against their better judgement. Everyone, that is, except Marty.

Marty hated my dad.

At some point, Marty picked up the habit of complimenting customers. He’d wait till Sharron was done with their hair, then wolf whistle and demand “who’s a pretty boy then?” in a broad Scots accent that ought to have defied avian vocalities. Sometimes he’d even do it before if he liked the customer. But regardless, he’d always chat with customers, even if it was just nonsense phrases like “Oh aye?” *whistles* “Iz at right?” *click click.* 

Now my dad knew this about Marty. He knew it from local chat and from watching the bird fawn over customers as he and my brother waited their turn. So it came as quite a surprise when my dad sat down in Sharron’s chair and was met with stony silence. The way he tells it, Marty stared at him dead on in silence, methodically cracking seeds between his talons. When my brother was done with his haircut in the neighboring chair, Marty turned and gave a shrill whistle, followed by his customary “who’s a pretty boy then?” before resuming his death glare at my dad, who by now was feeling a bit unnerved by the unwavering eye contact and the nut cracking. The uncharacteristic silence continued, even when my dad was getting ready to leave. There was no whistle, no “who’s a pretty boy then?” just silence and the sound of seeds being crushed. And then my dad tripped over the step on the way out of the shop, and Marty let out a demonic peal of parrot laughter*** like water circling an open drain. And that was the start of the feud.

After that, whenever my dad went to get a haircut, Marty would talk to him, but only ever in insults. The one time my dad tried asking “who’s a pretty boy?”, the bird replied “naw youse!” before cackling himself into a whistling fit. And every time my dad would come away, determined to get that bloody parrot to whistle at him and ask “who’s a pretty boy then?” 

Seeds were bought. Parrot appropriate biscuits were offered up as tribute. All to no avail. But eventually there became a sort of camaraderie in the insults. Like two enemies who know the steps to the dance they’re treading, and who welcome the familiarity of it. Sometimes my dad would just stick his head round the door on his way to work, just to hear the indignant squawk followed by a litany of insults that’d make a tea kettle whistle. And this went on for years, possibly close to a decade. 

Parrot and man locked in an ongoing battle of wills to see who would give up first.

Sadly, my dad never got his “who’s a pretty boy then?” whistle. Marty was already old when Sharron rescued him and is no longer with us. I’d like to say he’s looking down on my dad, hurling loving insults, but given that bird’s panache for stealing ice cream cones from unsuspecting children and general flare for terror, it’s probably more likely he’s looking up. Either way, he’s fondly remembered. Especially by my wee auld dad, who while never having got a “who’s a pretty boy then?” did get a “see youse later” one time, which probably counts for more.

*Scots for police. **A line from an old Glasgow Street song. ***Not Marty, but this is close to how I remember him sounding.

Happy 2-year-ish anniversary to this post. I need you all to know it’s been literal years, and during one of our recent phone conversations, I brought up Marty and what a terrible pun his name was, and my dad paused mid-sentence, asking what I meant and proclaimed, “Of course! It all makes sense! Marty McFly!”

sometimes I randomly think about the time a girl posted in this girls only Facebook group I’m in telling everyone how she broke up with her boyfriend and he lied saying that he lost the spare key she gave him, only to then break into her apartment when she wasn’t home and steal the cat they’d adopted while they were together, but then he denied having done this and she didn’t really have proof that he took the cat since he wouldn’t let her come into his place and look for it. And then another girl saw this post and knew her ex-boyfriend, and she was like “girl. I used to hook up with your mans back in xxxx and I still have his number. If you want, I’ll hit him up and get him to invite me back to his place and see if your cat’s there.” And the OP was like “bet.”

So this woman hit up homie dog, asked him out for drinks, went home with him, slept with him, and then woke up in the middle of the night and TOOK THE CAT. Like she had only said that she would confirm if the cat was there but then she took it upon herself to steal this woman’s cat back. Like she full on Trojan horsed this man and then hit up homegirl like “I got the goods. Where you wanna meet.” And then the two of them posted a photo of them together with the cat to the group.

And I just think women supporting women is so beautiful.