captain quasi-courageous

So, this therapist....the one I haven't actually met, but was afraid I'd stick with because I didn't want to offend her? We were scheduled to meet a couple of weeks ago. She called from Rhode Island the morning of our appointment, and it was one of the days of the horrible flooding they were having. She was stuck at her house in Rhode Island and had to cancel our appointment, but she'd be back in touch in a day or two.

That was fine with me. No worries.

Then I didn't hear from her and didn't hear from her. I don't do that to prospective clients, keep them waiting for over a week. I knew that the flooding was important, but I'd at least have renegotiated for a bigger window of time. "We're still bailing ourselves out! Give me a few days." Something.

Yesterday she called and left a message saying, "Hi, paula. I hope you got my other message. I'd love to set up an appointment...." I called back and we set up a time for next week. But afterwards I didn't feel right. The chances of her actually having called my cell phone and my not seeing that a call (or message!) had come through are very slim. I would much rather have had her say, "I'm so sorry. I totally spaced out and forgot to get back to you." But either she lied about having left a message or -- I'm being generous here -- she got a wrong number and didn't listen to the machine (my voicemail message is pretty clearly me, as it addresses clients, etc.). Either way, I felt like something was off.

So today I called to cancel. I've placed a call to another therapist. Okay, full disclosure, which is why I only get the moniker of Captain Quasi-Courageous: I didn't speak with her directly -- since we've never met, I didn't feel like I needed to. I left a message saying, "I don't feel ready to begin work with you and would like to cancel my appointment. Please let me know if you would like to discuss this, but I feel pretty clear. Thank you very much for your time."

I really thought that small issue would always be between us, and that would suck. No lectures from the blog peanut gallery about how I could have confronted her about the lie, how that would have been a great way to start therapy. No fanks.

Oy. For me it was a big thing. I am trying to learn to listen to my hey-wait-a-cotton-pickin'-minute part over my don't-you-worry-about-little-old-me part. It is a steep learning curve, but don't you worry about me. I'm on it.