Freud: Oh? Is it the hormones doing you in? The barometeric pressure disease? The tiny scab on your back that keeps coming back and you’ve decided it’s skin cancer? What do you think is killing you today, ‘nilla?
Pt: First of all I don’t think those things are killing me. I just think they might be why I don’t feel good. You may not have noticed this Freud, but I’m old, and fat and alone.
Freud: ::smiles:: So you’re …er.. having a new insight today?
Pt: I’m old. I did the math last night and my life is more than half over. Even if I lived to be twice my current age, I’d be too old to ….(looks at Freud, perhaps gauging his age) I mean, it just hit me reallly hard lately that my days are numbered.
Freud: Your days have always been numbered. Everyone’s days are numbered. Why are you so focused on it now?
Pt: Um isn’t that what I pay you to figure out? Is it normal to be paralyzed with fear that I am dying? Because I went to bed thinking about it last night and woke up thinking about it this morning. It’s a very dark place. Also, I sort of wasted my life, I think. Is this a mid-life crisis? Because on TV it seems like men have mid-life crises and they buy a car and have sex with young women. Do you think I should do that?
Freud: Do I think you should have sex with young women and buy a car? No, you don’t even like to drive, and I am assuming here, young women. I don’t think that would help.
Pt: I think it is because I need to be dumber. Dumb people seem a lot happier. Have you noticed how happy dumb people are? How much is a lobotomy? I can’t stand stupid people. Don’t you just want to smack them and tell them there is no God and they are going to die and the world is a horrible place and make the watch the news and see all the crap that is happenening and tell them about the zombie apocolpsye until that stupid, ignorant smile leaves their annoying pie faces?
Freud: So you are basicially too smart to live. Is that your problem of the day?
Pt: sigh. NOE. My “problem of the day” as you call it is that I am dying.
Freud: Well that certainly is a unique and pressing issue at your age. It’s unfortunately a terminal issue for which there is no cure. Perhaps you should just let go and let God. Perhaps there will be a heaven and you will feel really, er stupid, for worrying about the whole thing.
Pt: I keep meaning to write a will. I mean assuming I die before I become a bag lady who eats cat food. I just never knew who to leave my stuff too because I AM ALL ALONE. /cries softly
Freud: It would be smart to write a will. But I’m pretty sure that after you die, you aren’t really going to care about your stuff anymore. But let’s get back to what you said was really bothering you, you said you are old and dying and fat and alone. One of those things is an issue that can’t be changed. But two of them can. I thought you were dieting.
Pt: I was/am I guess. I went through this sorbet/gelato phase. It was really weird because I’ve never been much of an ice cream person and for the past week or so I can’t stop shoveling it in my gelato hole. It’s probably not really blowing my weight up too bad because I have sort of just been eating gelato and homemade oatmeal cookies. Which have lots of fiber. And I eat a lot of them. I like cookies.
Freud: So, you haven’t been eating protein? or vegetables? or fruit? And now you are depressed and anxious about death.
Pt: yeah. So, I’m sorta back to square one because I am a self-sabotaging, unloveable fatass?
Freud: Who has an obession with death and with low self-esteem.
Pt: My self esteem is fine. I’m smart remember? I’m a big fat smarty pants. I know exactly what I am doing. Low self-esteem is for people who don’t like themselves. I like myself. The problem is with other people. Other people don’t like me. It’s not my fault that other people don’t like me.