my adventures in therapy

Upon having decided that I needed to see a therapist I called my man's work assistance program who then kindly hooked me up with someone that I could see so that I could try to sort myself out a bit. So, I booked an appointment, walked 5km's to see her (it was a lovely day) and got to her house-office in a very ritzy part of town. I needed to use the bathroom which was on the upper level of the townhouse-perfect fucking house. Everything in it's place, tasteful decor, tasteful art, tasteful fridge magnets, the works. Bad sign. It kind of went downhill from there. The woman/therapist looked like someone who grew up summering in the Hampton's and who's childhood nickname had to be either miffy or buffy and who was the living example of the perfect wasp right down to the greying blond bob and the preppy-yet-elegant light grey pantsuit. Oh my God she was so perfect and cold. Not that there's anything WRONG with that but I am one of those wacky people who requires a degree of warmth and empathy from my therapists. After I filled out the required forms I took a seat in her office on the couch while she sat in her ELEVATED office chair with her feet on a stool so that she could reinforce her superiority over me as if her perfect house and perfect clothes weren't enough. According to the many degrees and certificates she had on her wall, she was an "advanced" sex therapist so I amused myself by imaging her having sex with her clients. I am an open minded woman but I just couldn't imagine talking about feeling depressed to this woman never mind my sex life. It gets better. She quizzed me on my level of happiness and then declared me "on the upper level of a mild depression" and recommended I see a doctor so that I could get some meds "just to get over the hump", then she proceeded to talk my ear off for the next 45 minutes about all of the things I should be doing to get out there and get a job, get over my depression and be happy and grateful for the good life I have. I am not kidding. I think I spoke 3 times and each time I had to interrupt her. Half the time I tuned her out so I am not exactly sure what she said but I do know which years she earned her degreees and I did make a mental shopping list. The woman had all the answers and no warmth whatsoever. I think she even got mildly irritated with me when I tried to explain to her that since I have seen Oprah I was already aware that a gratitude journal is a great way to start the day, but when one is depressed it's hard to get the energy to feel grateful about much, so I quickly dropped the subject and let her continue on with her great advice. Don't get me wrong-her advice was good: KEEP JOGGING, NETWORK TO GET A JOB, KEEP A GRATITUDE JOURNAL, FOCUS ON BEING POSITIVE. but she completely missed the point andI ended up pissed off that I didn't get a chance to talk about ME.
Of course when the session was over I told her it was helpful and booked another appointment for the next week. What an idiot.