COUNSELING…A NOBLE AND FULFILLING CAREER…..zuki throws up in his mouth

Good Morning Victims of Valency, (DUI 2008)

I finally had enough.  I couldn’t take one more syllable of psychobabble from Pollyanna and brought utter silence to the room.  The Bagwan (Dan) would have been proud but unfortunately, righteous indignation got the better of me.  The sad thing about it was I almost made it without incident.

It was the usual woolgathering of feigning interest in a tedious mandated session where some Ph.D. got rich writing a full of shit lesson manual in 40 minutes for a calculated two-hour group session. Mind you, that’s the only thing that makes it bearable yet I hurt her feelings.

Pollyanna is essentially killing the last ten minutes of ‘therapy’ and by everything noteworthy, I intended to keep my mouth shut.  But do you think I could? I know what you’re thinking…”zuki you couldn’t keep quiet even if there was a gun to your head.” I’m hip…

Her incessant drivel drove me over the top.  With the exception of the instructor these people have been exposed to my sensibilities only a short time and were unprepared for the bitch-slapping unleashed by yours truly.

She’s afraid to let us out before the court ordered time of 9:00 PM that on rare occasions will release us before 8:30 PM.  I’d almost put another shackled meeting behind me and mark one off when her blathering caused me to snap.  Pollyanna after a stimulating discussion on empathy’s ability to heal the soul turned her ‘Cliff Clavin’ like delivery about how we now knew each other and who we are from our superficial “where are you from?” conversation.

I don’t remember the exact words, but what I think I said is “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!?  NOBODY KNOWS ANYTHING ABOUT WHO I AM, NOR DO I SUSPECT THEY WISH TO.!..!  THE FACT YOU THINK WE DO SHOULD DISTURB EVERYONE IN THIS ROOM!  FOR YOU TO SAY THAT IS NOT ONLY UNCONSCIONABLE BUT IS A FAT LIE AT BEST!

The room was dead silent.  It was like the ride to the tenth floor with one other stranger and about as long.  Realizing I might be threatening the status quo for the other inmates and further alienate them I tried to back peddle.  It came out as “DID THEY TEACH YOU THAT IN COLLEGE?? netting a deeper hole.

This whole thing has become so fucking intrusive, I’m going to seek a meeting with the city attorney and see if I can somehow serve time to make it all go away.  I’d be willing to spend a year in jail to pay my debt to society than suffer through one more session. I’m also considering a class action discrimination suit against the state.

While not researched, but from my personal journey through this hell, the entire process of carrying out and monitoring the sentence is controlled by women.  My ‘councilor’, probation officer, class/therapy, and judge are all women.  Several of them profess to be from broken even abusive relationships and seem to relish the idea of being in a position of power, particularly over men.

There are those who would accuse me of misogyny but they’d be wrong!  I love women.  But I’d like to look into the gender breakdown of the probation and ancillary departments to quantify my suspicions.  That’s public information, right?

Unfortunately, the damage may be already done.  Sadly they may tack another 12 hours of “anger management” to help me deal with my anger at $35 per.  I’ve asked for an official definition of what therapy means to satisfy the state’s requirement for a “pound of flesh.”

I always thought therapy was supposed to be an honest exchange of our feelings with the group but now I’m not certain.  Shit, I’ll just have to beg forgiveness and try not to spit in their collective eyes.

What a world!

zuki