The Disturbed series- Part 1

The high school "therapist" was manly looking....to put it nicely. I remember watching her lips move under her mustache & thinking..."If her mom insisted on bleaching that hairy monster at age 10...like mine had, maybe she would have grown up to CARE."

There I sat. 15 year old girl forced by the school to endure this joke called "counseling" Oh no...they could not have a young lady who's mom just bought the farm running around the High School willy nilly. This girl needs help....and the great school of South was going to give it to me, whether I wanted it or not.

I was pissed when my Dad tenderly broached the subject of the school wanting to counsel me. "Maybe you can talk about Mom? It will be good for you." So said the man who much rather drown his sorrows at bars every night instead of actually talking to a professional. "piiiishh"...men

So there I sat, awkwardly across from this professional who professed she would guide me through this difficult time. She would be there for me...a safe place to fall. I could open up about my Mom's death. "Just release all the pain" she said in a sullen, mono-toned voice.

Open up. I wanted to do that. I didn't want to burden my friends. I figured I might as well use this free counselor to my advantage. She's a professional. She will...guide me.

"How does this work?" I was hesitant but relieved to unload.

"Just start by telling me about your mom...or how you feel about her death." Dr. Ihatemyjob Counselor sighed


"O.K."


"well"


"They stapled my moms eye lids closed."

"umm, what?"

"yeah...STAPLED. I could see the staples. I know dead people sometimes have reflexes & their little dead eyes spring open so they have to glue them closed. But really? Stapled? They didn't even have the talent to cover the staples. Like...glue on some eyelashes man. Cover that up!"









"Well....I see. How did that make you feel?"


"Like....mad. Don't EVEN get me started about the fact that they painted her eyelids purple. My dead mom looked like a hooker that was trying to hard!"



"Well.....I see. So let's now talk about your future. Where do you want to go to college."


"College? Ummm, I'm only 15. I...don't... want to go to college. Do we have to talk about this now. College stresses me out. I'm only a sophomore."



"Well dear, It's never to early to start thinking about college. I have your grades right here. Lets talk about college"


And that my friends....was all the counseling I got about my moms death.

She died this month 22 years ago. I have written down little tid bits about my moms death in my little pink journal. But never have I dived head first in the story of her death. So I figured I have a blog....might as well reveal how disturbed I really am.

Hey, don't you judge me! You would have never had to deal with this if Dr. Counselor Hack had done her job!

So sit back kids and enjoy....my twisted teen hood. It will be fun...no really!