If you are new to all this, let me help you. Even if you're not, I'll help you, because that's the kind of crazy gal I am.
Where do they go?
They all go to Cape Cod and I've figured out why. There is a giant magnet there that attracts the steel pellets that were injected into them during their internships. Sometime in July, they all start feeling uncomfortable and tilting towards the island. They have all discussed it and know that they must go to the homeland in August.
The magnet was placed there by the local tourist industry, right after Ted Kennedy gave Chappaquiddick a bad name. Even though that's in Martha's Vineyard, most people don't know the difference so they had to do "damage control." They needed a niche. A niche that didn't include Kennedys - hence, the giant therapist magnet.
What do they do there?
They talk about you. How nuts you are. How much they have no idea what you're talking about or what to do about it. They titter and exchange their favorite nonsensical statements they've made to appease you. For instance, "Wow, you really seem to have indelicosis...we should talk about this next session." You, my friend, are out the door and thinkin' you need to come back. THAT is therapist gold.
Even though they have great dismay at you and your blathering, you are no where near as bad as this guy William something-or-other, about whom they all nod their heads, knowingly, and roll their eyes. If you are actually William of Many Problems, you need to go inpatient. You need to go now. They all agreed.
The divorced therapists (because really, they are just people and do get divorced) find mates on the Cape. Some breed there. Mostly, though, they try to act like regular folk, except that they are doing it solely amongst themselves, which is not regular.
What do you do when they are gone?
Okay, I'm super nuts (capital "n") so let me tell you the stages of therapist withdrawal, which you will experience if you are nuts - just to prepare you.
Stage One - I don't need this as much as I thought I did
You walk down the street and think, "Hey, I don't need this as much as I thought I did."
Stage Two - Something isn't quite right
You're having a perfectly fine time obsessing at night, when you realize: I can't go tell someone about this fabulous rumination. This is one of my best, crazy ruminations and I can't call my anyone (who will tolerate it) at 1 AM to discuss its import.
Stage Three - Are those voices?
Without someone convincing you, on a regular basis, that you are not crazy, you actually start becoming crazy. See, you thought you were paying for someone to treat your nutso symptoms, but you are actually paying for someone to tell you that you are sane. This works, as long as they don't go away on vacation.
Stage Four - Daddy? Mommy?
It's only been a total of 6 hours since you started all of these stages. You are trying to remember "the good times" with Dr. X. You wonder if going to Cape Cod, just happenstance, and riding your bike around will create a "serendipitous" meeting between you. "Let's see, I could slip in my major breakdown (from a sense of abandonment) within 45 seconds...then Dr.X would HAVE to talk to me." You decide this is even too crazy for you. You start rocking and whispering, "I think I can. I think I can." You have just boarded the Little Engine to Crazytown.
Stage Five - What happened?
You realize that you have blacked out, but that it landed you in the hospital and Dr. X was forced to call to consult with the ER doctors. He DOES love you!!!!
Stage Six - The Reunion
Dr. X is back! You can't hug - because that's against the rules - but you are certainly able to hug inside your head. Heck, go ahead and have intercourse in your head. You know you want to. You have already written out the check (that makes Dr. X happy) and have written down all your zany antics in a journal. It's going to be a great session!!!
In closing, I would like to point out that August often has a higher crime rate than other months of the year. Coincidence? I am betting that there are more "break and entry" crimes then. You know, like, a crazy patient who doesn't know that their therapist is going to the Cape and breaks in to check their appointment calendar...I'm just guessing here.
So, if you are in therapy, prepare yourself, the end (albeit only a week, but it'll feel longer) is nigh, but at least you know that now.
