I was being a complete bastard at work, everyone had been giving me looks lately, waiting to see when I was going to blow up again on someone. It wasn’t fair to them and I’m sure they were all wondering what was going on. I was usually a pretty easy going and fun guy at work. Last week Ben finally said to me, “Hey, I’m not sure what’s going on with you, but people are going to start thinking you’re on steroids or going bipolar or something.” I wanted to tell him that no, it wasn’t that but I had cheated on my wife like a prick and now she hated me and I hadn’t gotten laid in forever, but I just told him it was stress. He responded by telling me to see a shrink. I had thought about counseling at the very beginning, thinking it would be helpful for the both Emma and me to talk to someone. But Emma hated shrinks after the two assholes she dealt with when she was a kid and I didn’t want to pressure her into seeing one when it was me who fucked up. Still, there wasn’t harm in seeing one myself. I thought maybe he could give me some suggestions on how to fix this, and so I made an appointment and had my first visit with him last week. Dr.
