No, I’m not going to make some esoteric comparison between grated cheese and some aspect of disability. This is simply a story about grated cheese.
To demonstrate that my stressed-out state heads more in the direction of depression than anxiety, I told my psychiatrist (not FabTherapist) about the following event:
Getting ready to make an omelet, I went to the refrigerator to fetch the sautéed vegetables I had, the already grated cheddar and other useful ingredients. The Ziploc bag of cheese was not where I’d left it. It wasn’t next to where I had left it. It wasn’t anywhere that I looked.
So, I sat down on the floor before the open fridge and sobbed. Inconsolably.
My psychiatrist said, “Well, that’s about your disability…”
Um, until that very moment, I hadn’t thought about it in those terms. I was just a person who couldn’t find something and had a very intense, dramatic response. Blindness had nothing to do with it. The thought, “If I could see, I could find the stupid cheese,” never crossed my mind.
The psychiatrist, though, went there immediately. I find that fascinating.
If only this therapist had been made out of cheese, you could have grated them over your omelet.
Although that might have been as choking as what they said.
Jeez-o-pete what a turd.
Your therapist went there because that’s what HE would think of as frustrating.
“I can’t find something, it must be because I’m blind.” What a maroon.
To someone who has lived with a disability their whole lives, frustration isn’t due to the disability, it’s due to the situation itself. Stress.
And yes, I’ve found your blog 🙂