I studied phycology psychology at UF with the aim of becoming a counselor, in one form or another. I did some counseling on my first job after graduation. I spent a chunk of my time and an awful lot of my parent’s money on the idea that counseling, phycological therapy, and talking works.

A small part of me finds it funny that it never seems to work for me, when I need it.

We went to a support group for the first time last night and it was awful. The point is ultimately to feel better, but I felt much worse. Everyone didn’t get a chance to speak. There was nothing orderly about it. It was more like a cage match on pay-per-view (not that I’ve ever seen one, mind you), where someone rings a bell and everyone jumps in at once, fighting to be the last one standing.

I did learn something though. I could have it much worse. Well, maybe “learn” isn’t quite the right word. I knew already. It was just reinforced… over and over again. Well, maybe “reinforced” isn’t quite the right word. It was really more like I was beaten over the head with it.

Sometimes folks can take a little comfort knowing things can be worse, but I don’t tend to be one of those people (not always, anyway). It feels a little distasteful, finding comfort in someone else’s suffering. Worse, my flirtation with anxiety disorder can heat up in these circumstances.

It can get worse? Really? It’s bad enough now, what would I do if it got worse? Fuck me… what if my life was like yours?