I delight in being ornery.

Well, friends, I admit it: I am my therapist's worst nightmare. Really I am. I am bitter and sarcastic, and I question almost every suggestion put forth. As I have been sick lately, I have been struggling with eating, which is not such a good situation for a recovering anorexic. This was of some concern to both my therapist and myself, so as I was leaving, she insisted that I stop at the friendly neighborhood Wawa to get something to eat before class. "But what should I eat?" I asked. "Don't ask me that!" said she. "But there's nothing gooood...." I whinged. "Oh don't be ornery," she said, with a glare that said, 'you are testing my patience, Lisa, of which I have a lot. So cut it out' (yes all that from a single look!).

So I am ornery. Cantankerous. Quarrelsome. Yup. That's about right. It's not that I set out to be that way. It's just that I'm, erm, a bit stubborn, one might say. I know I really shouldn't be this way, especially with someone who is trying so hard to help me out. Especially with someone I'm paying to help me out! Nevertheless, I find myself arguing and ranting and whining to a superlative degree. I happen to believe it's part of the healing process for me. Gives me some sense of control. If I went along with every suggestion without a fight, I'd be the same spineless twit that got herself into this mess in the first place. So I whine and complain and counter every thought with a twisted-logic gem, and somehow my therapist, God bless her, puts up with all of it. We have a good working relationship. Even if I am "that patient".