When you end a therapy session (that is supervised; as in it being watched live / recorded so it can be watched later) with a particularly grueling couple and your supervisor stops you on your way out and says “hang around a minute, I have something I want to say to you”… you pretty much feel like you’re going to throw up. Not to mention you’re starving and you’re on hour 13 of what is supposed to be a 12 hour day.
He lets out a rather large sigh and says “I don’t even know what the hell I would do with them”. Suddenly, you feel so much better about yourself. And your halfway-there master’s degree. And just your life in general.
Because if he’s okay with the fact that he’s fucking clueless right now… so am I.
