When the Bough Breaks

There were nights when I left the sessions physically and emotionally drained after hearing the anguish pour out like blood from a gaping wound. Don’t let anyone ever tell you different – psychotherapy is one of the most taxing endeavors known to mankind; I’ve done all sorts of work, from picking carrots in the scorching sun to sitting on national committees in paneled board rooms, and there’s nothing that compares to confronting human misery hour after hour and bearing the responsibility for easing that misery using only one’s mind and mouth. At its best it’s tremendously uplifting as you watch the patient open up, breathe, let go of the pain. At its worst is like surfing in a cesspool struggling for balance while being slapped with wave after putrid wave.

Assholes are like weeds, a bitch to get rid of and when you do another one grows back in its place.

Pessimism is not good for the soul." "I sold my soul years ago." "To whom?" "The bitch goddess Success. She cut town before paying off.

It was shaping up as a beautiful morning. The last thing I wanted to hear about was murder.

made out a shape at the other end of the greenhouse,