I finally stuffed my conscience into a trash compacter and started the process of breaking up with my problem doctor asshole client. I struggled heavily with the decision partially because I am in this business to help people and partially because I am a raging codependent and probably always will be (and because things still cost money).
I told him that in order to keep my certification current, I have to do education courses every two years (this is true). I told him that the class I'm taking is going to be in the evenings several nights a week (this is not true) and that there's no way I can do the course and keep my clients (this is not true but would probably be true if a several night per week class existed).
He was initially concerned that I wouldn't be able to finish out his remaining sessions but I quickly assured him that I was sketchy on details but I was pretty sure my class didn't start until the latter part of the month. (Not true not true not true).
My gratitude is unending.
I arrived on Thursday at our usual time and was let in by a nurse who was there to take care of his mother. She said he was not home yet. I checked my phone to confirm that there had been no messages and sure enough, I was message-free.
I sat at the kitchen table and waited while my blood pressure steadily rose. (I should probably mention that I had a SEVERE allergy attack on Thursday morning and took about 5 different antihistamines to stop the literal parade of snot escaping my nose so I could go to work. The medications didn't work much at all and I actually cancelled a consultation with a new client and the last appointment I had for the day. Really, the main reason I decided to tough it out and go to work was because I couldn't bear the thought of prolonging our magical time together. As of Thursday morning, he had 4 remaining sessions and I wanted to get them the fuck over with.)
After about 10 minutes, my annoyance reached the exit level and I decided to leave (generally, I will give my clients 15 minutes and usualy call them - I honestly do not mind if people are going to be late but at least do me the courtesy of letting me know so I don't sit in your driveway like a stalker who is not entirely sure how to proceed).
Once I made the decision to leave, I hastily scribbled a note to let him know that I was in fact there and to please let me know if we were still on for Monday. My behavior following the note was more than enough evidence that terminating this relationship was exactly what I wanted even if my codependent cheering section continued to remind me that he did indeed reach out for help (and again, things still cost money).
I actually RAN out to my car (I HATE running and avoid it whenever possible) and threw my gym bag into the back seat instead of taking the time to open the back door of my SUV. I left the neighborhood via a different and somewhat indirect route in order to avoid seeing him. My departure route was so convoluted and confusing that I think I'd have dropped a tail (you know, if I were important or interesting enough to follow).
I never heard from him at all Thursday. Friday afternoon I decided to send him an email in the event that gremlins now feed on paper and my note had been happily digested by an animal that doesn't even exist (and the fact that I'd rather pull the toenail off my pinkie toe than call this motherfucker). He replied "I got home too late on Thursday but am planning on being there Monday."
Thankfully, I don't currently have anything better to do on Monday afternoons than to go his house and hope that he deems the appointment worthy enough to show up. *sigh* If this relationship were going to go much further than it already is, I would probably initiate the it's-rude-to-stand-people-up talk which fortunately, I have never had to have with ANYONE ELSE because most people seem to understand that making an appointment and not showing up for it is just plain fucking rude. I've decided that if he stands me up for any of his three remaining appiontments, I will just be grateful that I get to charge him for that session and that I didn't have pleasure of dealing with his awkwardly shy and socially uncomfortable presence.
Fucker.
It is at this moment that I invoke the sort of phrases usually reserved for a client who is nearing the end of set and struggling with those last few repetitions.
"You're almost there."
"Stay with me."
"The end is in sight."
"You have to deal with this awkward beast of a person for exactly three more sessions and then you can have a memory erasure moment a la Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and forget that such a client existed." (Okay, so maybe I don't generally repeat that one to my victims...)
Praise somebody I am almost done with this fucktard. Hallelujah.
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