I had a friend who was a real badass, a runaway, didn't take crap from anybody...and now she is a shadow of her former self. Maybe she's better off this way, but I can't help but feel that something is lost in therapy. I wrote this for her:
She told me about the steps she was taking in a prayer drone. Some therapist had told her something she liked but couldn’t believe, and then said therapist had convinced her that liking something was enough to make it true.
Thinking positive…learning about different countries…wow that president of Africa needs to get his shit together…oh, it’s not one country? And I want to learn more languages, like Spanish, maybe French…and I want to learn about dentistry. Maybe I can become a dentist. Anyway, I wanted to talk to everyone in my past and say that I’m sorry and talk about my new plan…
How could she be like this? We shared suicidal thoughts together. We created a language. For human beings, that was like tinkering with the fabric of existence.
I had to get her back on my side, away from the chants and solemn penance of recovery. I considered her feelings the way a rapist considers the weather: as an obstacle.