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Finally said my piece to psychiatrist.

by TheAngstyPoet on March 21, 2013   |  FacebooktwitterTumblr

My sister paints me as a tormenter and herself as a victim. Yesterday there was no time between the dentist and the psychiatrist to drop me off at home. My mother wanted me to wait in the car as my she and my sister had their session. But I had to pee. So I after I washed my hands I sat down in one of the waiting room armchairs. The doctor opens his office door to usher my sister and mother in but just before he does that, he walks over to me. He extends his hand, "You must be Allie." I replied, "Yes I am. Nice to meet you." His handshake was good; not too firm, not too weak. All three went into office and the door was shut. I tried to concentrate on the book I had brought but I was itching to know what the murmur of voices were really saying. I suspected my sister was bitching about me. What I really wanted was to knock on the door and ask if I could join. A bit of time passed, then the doctor opened the door and invited me in. I said, "I bet she's talking more about me than she is about herself." He nodded and replied, "Keen observation." I had waited for this opportunity for years. I had heard so many times, "Wait until I tell so-and-so!" Repeated over and over and over through the years. Victoria had visited this guy since she was little. I finally was able to stand up for myself and tell the doctor my side of the story. To tell him I wasn't the bad person my sister said I was and explain what really happened. My sister said barely a word the rest of the meeting. My mother and I had a few choice words. But I think I maid it clear to the doctor that Victoria had left out some key details.


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