My mom is trying to force me to see a therapist (again) sometime next week because she thinks the "lack of a male role model" in my life, and what happened with my biological dad, is "affecting" me somehow, even though that's total bull. I refused to go and refused to even talk about it. I already had to go to a therapist three years ago for some stuff, and I don't want to (or need to) go again. If she wants me to go, she's going to have to physically break down the door and haul me to the car, because I'm not going.
Well, she finally made me go.
The therapist was nice. She basically talked at me for fourty-five minutes while I sat in a rocking chair studying my nails and mentally humming song lyrics. The session was supposed to last for an hour, but she realized that I wasn't saying anything and let me go early.
Hopefully I won't have to go back.