I am a social worker and not a therapist ; but some people never understand that. Apparently those same people have a strick office trip schedule: I call them Kamikaze Fridays and they are not good times to visit me at work.
Kamikaze Fridays often result in 5150 (Psychiatric) visits from the local police, or a visit from the building security guard, or my furiously poking the emergency button by my knees. When possible, I avoid the Drama Droppers in favor of a trip to get coffee. Last Friday I wasn’t able to escape and finally told a middle aged father to either pull himself together or leave. The truly awful thing was that the man was not there to talk to me -but I could hear his whining from over 25 feet away and I didn’t need my super sonic hearing to accomplish this.
Do you want help or just attention?
I have not forgotten that I deal with stressed out people who are legitimately have the hardest days of their lives. I have emphathy. But loudly flying your struggles like they are B-1 Bombers is not the way to address and resolve your issues. It is a cry for attention and when the attention is recieved, no amount of help will be accepted because help isn’t wanted.
I am not an audience. I don’t watch and applaud victories and gasp horrified messages of sympathy while tossing popcorn into my face and slurping Diet Coke. … I am not in it for the show.
If I wanted a show I would hang out with my 3-year-old daughter, Darla. Darla celebrates every fall and scrape and is somewhat self destructive just because it may get her a cute bandaid. She loves the attention and pulling the plastic strip off and replacing it because it is fun.
People who interfere with and prolong healing are exactly like Darla and her bandages. It is cute but mildly annoying from a child -it is crippling and infuriating from an adult.