I was having a chat with Hatchick last night (yes, we do "cutesy nicknames" here. I have blog stalkers. If cutesy nicknames bother you: sorry, but protecting my children's anonymity is important to me) and she told me something funny: she and her sisters were having a great conversation the other day about what kind of conversations would take place in a therapist or counselor's office between that professional healer and just about any Disney(tm) movie character.
Of course, in real life it's the teen pop stars manufactured by Disney(tm) who end up on the therapy couch, so to speak, but I had to admit that their idea was amusing--so much so that I decided to try my hand at it as well. Yes, this is Total Random Silliness. It has been that kind of day, anyway. You know I'll revert to something serious soon.
So, here are just a few random conversations:
Therapist: Okay, so last time we were talking about your relationship with your stepmother.
Female patient: Yes, she and I really didn't get along. She pretty much hated me, and she even tried to kill me...
Therapist: She tried to kill you?
Female patient: Oh, yes. She sent me out into the woods with a man who had a big knife.
Therapist: Mmm. I see. And was this a dream, maybe? A nightmare?
Female patient: Oh, no. He really did have a knife. But he had a kind heart, so he let me go, and I think he killed an animal and brought my stepmother its heart instead of mine.
Therapist: Oookaaay. And then what happened?
Female patient: I moved in with seven really short men who lived in the woods. To help them keep house, and for my own protection, of course...
Therapist: So your problems really started when your father died.
Female patient: Yes.
Therapist: What happened?
Female patient: My stepmother started treating me like a servant. She made me live in the attic and do all of the chores, and...
Therapist: Did you tell anybody? A trusted adult, or Child Protective Services? A teacher, maybe?
Female patient: No. I did talk a lot about things with the birds.
Therapist: The birds...
Female patient: But the mice were my real friends. I talked to them the most.
Therapist: You talked to mice?
Female patient: Mmm hmm. They were so cute, and they talked to me, though they couldn't speak all that well...
Therapist: They talked to you?
Female patient: Of course. And I made them clothes. Little shirts, and things.
Therapist: And would you say they were your best friends?
Female patient: Well, close, but I'd probably say my best friend was my fairy godmother. When she came to me and turned the pumpkin into a coach, and my rags into a beautiful gown, and sent me to the palace ball...
Therapist: Now, you know that I'm not criticizing or being judgmental, but I have a question, and if you can give me an honest answer, we might make some good progress, okay?
Female patient: Oh, sure!
Therapist: Have you ever experimented with recreational drugs or other substances?
Therapist: So your wife is very fond of swimming.
Male patient: It's more than that. She gets physically ill if we're not near the ocean. And my work takes me all over the country, pretty far inland, so it's starting to be a problem for us.
Therapist: But she hasn't agreed to come with you to therapy?
Male patient: No, not yet. She thinks that people like you are prejudiced against people like her.
Therapist: She thinks therapists are? Or doctors generally?
Male patient: No--humans, actually. She thinks people who were born human don't quite understand her way of thinking. Except for me, and a few others she trusts.
Therapist: I'm not quite following. Your wife thinks she wasn't born human?
Male patient: Oh, it's not just something she thinks. It's the literal truth. She was born a mermaid. You know--half woman, half fish, lived underwater, could breath both water and air...
Therapist: I see. And you encourage this belief?
Male patient: Encourage it? I was there when she changed into a human, and then back into a mermaid, and then back into a human again.
Therapist: I see...
Therapist: So when you say you were a beast before your marriage, you don't mean figuratively.
Male patient: Oh, no. I was an actual beast. You know: fangs, fur, claws--the works.
Therapist. Okay. And you and your wife are having some difficulties, you said last time...
Male patient: Oh, not with each other! We love each other. She kids me about my table manners, I have snowball fights with her--we're just like we were back in my "Beast" days. It's great.
Therapist: So, then, what is the issue?
Male patient: We're having some trouble with our housekeeper. Both of us, but my wife couldn't make it this time. She wants me to explain it to you, and then next session she'll come too to get your advice.
Therapist: I'm not sure I understand. If the issue is your housekeeper, why not fire her and hire someone else?
Male patient: We couldn't do that. She's been with our family a long time.
Therapist: I see. So what is the problem exactly?
Male patient: Well, she's getting up there in years, and lately she's been a bit senile. She thinks she's still a teapot on occasion.
Therapist: A teapot?
Male patient: She was a teapot for ten years. While I was a Beast, you see. You know, "I'm a little teapot, short and stout..."
Therapist: You mean she dealt with your...your Beast phase..by convincing herself she was a teapot?
Male patient: No, she actually was a teapot. A singing, ambulatory hunk of porcelain. Pretty funny, actually, at the time. But she turned back into a real woman when the spell on me was finally broken. Only lately she gets confused. She tripped in the kitchen and thought she had smashed her handle, but she'd only broken a wooden spoon. We had the hardest time convincing her that she wasn't damaged.
Male patient: I know! Maybe next week, when my wife comes, we should bring the housekeeper. We can bring her son, too--he's quite worried. And he's perfectly sane, even though he used to be a teacup...
Therapist: I see. So quite, quite sane, then.
Male patient: Yes. He's adjusted as well as I have.
Therapist: Good to know...