Thanks to my therapist I can now add abandonment issues to my psychiatric cornucopia | Opinion | Pittsburgh | Pittsburgh City Paper
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Thanks to my therapist I can now add abandonment issues to my psychiatric cornucopia 

click to enlarge Gab Bonesso - PHOTO: DAN BUZCYNSKI
  • Photo: Dan Buzcynski
  • Gab Bonesso
I was recently dumped. I want to go on record to say that it is way worse to be rejected by your therapist than your significant other.

I can understand someone wanting to dump me because I give bad smooches or because I’m a lazy lay. I just can’t wrap my brain around someone rejecting my $30 copay. It’s like being rejected by a prostitute.

Prostitute: Looking for action tonight?

Gab: I am.
Prostitute: Anyone else?
Gab: I have cash money.
Prostitute: I only accept stamps as currency.
[End scene]

I just don’t understand where we went wrong. Was my mania grating on her nerves? Were my rage fantasies becoming boring? Was she annoyed that I was always 15-35 minutes late for every session?

It just doesn’t make sense.

I guess it all comes down to common interests and goals. She only accepts UPMC health insurance and my health plan changed in 2019. It’s like the minute I switched to Gateway, she started treating me differently.

Maybe she has friends like those kids in the musical West Side Story who sing out, “One of your kind, stick to your own kind.” She was treating me like I had the plague.

It all culminated when I asked that we take a little time apart. What? She takes weeks off at a time to travel. I just needed a break from the $30 copays, and, like an idiot, I was honest with her. I know better than to be honest with a therapist.

In order to take time off, I had to lose my standing appointment. Those were her terms, and I was devastated.

Naturally, when I asked for time off due to poverty, I was hoping that she’d say something like, “Just pay $10 a session until you’re back on your feet.”

Yes, I am the passive-aggressive one in our relationship. I’m also the patient with Bipolar, anxiety, PTSD, OCD, and hyper sensitivity. You would think she would take some of that into consideration before dropping me from my standing appointment.

It’s like she doesn’t even know me.

Maybe she never really knew me.

Oh my God, do you think she was just in it for the copay? Was I just $30 a week to her?

I’m over here crying listening to Boyz II Men’s “It’s so Hard to Say Goodbye,” and she’s in her office blasting, “Bitch Better Have My Money.” But I'll take with me the memories to be my sunshine after the rain. It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday.
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