July 5, 2023:
Mountain therapy. She talks habitually of herself; doesn't take notes; doesn't follow up where we ended the previous session. Sessions feel like she needs a friend, not so much that she's there to be helpful.
Has the world backward. Potato chips are not the cause of my depression. They're a childhood muscle memory of comfort food responding to adult depression. A momentary buzz.
I bounce when she recommends a ridiculous New Age laugh-per-page arguing that bone marrow stores photons.
As it is above, so shall it be below.