I’m worried my therapist hates me

Usually I dress up to go to therapy. It’s important that my therapist doesn’t think I’m as big of a mess as I am. Plus, her shoes are always so cute – she’d clearly judge my Uggs-and-pajama-pants look, no matter how chic it may be…

I hate the box of tissues at my therapist’s office. They sit there taunting me trying to get me to cry-which I’m desperately trying not to do. I don’t want my therapist to think I’m too neurotic, after all. Also, I’m not a pretty cryer. I bet she is.

I wonder if she knows that I’ve spent hours googling her, that I know her husband’s political leanings, her maiden name, and her synagogue…

Have you ever been in a therapist’s office that does not have an orchid? A white one of course. Those fuchsia ones are just too upsetting.