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An except from my new book, “Single. On Purpose.”

I remember watching the movie Weird Science when I was twelve. If you don’t know, it’s about two nerdy teens who create their perfect woman, “Lisa,” after hooking up wires to a Barbie doll and wearing bras on their heads. The ’80s were a weird time with weird movies. Any- way, the doll comes to life and teaches them about love and life. The first time I remember desiring a woman was while I was watching this movie.

I literally sat in my parents’ room (where I watched movies), mouth open, eyes shut tight, wishing for some weird science to happen to me. I really wanted a woman to pull me out of my boring world and show me a new one. But Kelly LeBrock never walked in. Only my mom, to ask me if I was hungry.
It wasn’t just the lips and curves and the growing curiosity of a twelve-year-old. It was also the idea of having a new type of friend. One who made you feel something different. One who would take care of you. …


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Dylan Siebelink

It’s time to redefine everything

I’ve been single. Many times. I’ve struggled with loneliness. Rejection. Not believing I was desirable. I’ve tried “dating myself” many times and it was bullshit. The truth is we’re humans and we’re not meant to do life alone. We want to love someone. And that’s okay. We’re biologically built that way. What’s not okay is losing ourselves because we don’t have someone to love. Or losing ourselves in the person we’ve chosen to love.

I have struggled with singlehood, and also lost myself in relationships. I have jumped into things way too fast after a breakup was still fresh. Within days, I’ve been “back on the market” swiping to find someone else to lose myself in. Because I didn’t want to be alone. Because I didn’t want to eat by myself. Because I like sex too much. But on a deeper level, because I needed to prove to myself that I was desirable, loveable, and worthy. …


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I’m not as vulnerable as a blogger as I thought I was, 90’s hair, and a new podcast that terrifies the shit out of me

11.13.20. 4:30am.

I just clentched my nose circulation-stopping tight to prevent a sneeze that would have surely woke up Vanessa, if the punching of these keys hasn’t already. She can hear a mouse thinking. Her hearing is so good it’s almost a handicap. I never want to hear that well. The world is too noisy. I need to be able to close some doors. Anyway, I may be stretching here but I think it’s proof that I have grown. I sacrificed something that feels amazing for someone else. I know it’s just a sneeze. But my sneezes measure on the Richter and feel like orgasms. I think people who take away your sneezes should be fined. Or shot. In the face. Like adults who tickle children that don’t want to be tickled. Or don’t stop when they should because they think it’s cute, without knowing they are taking the child’s voice away. I’ve had many steal my sneezes over the span of my life and it enrages me. How do you steal someone’s sneeze? You scare them right when they’re about to sneeze. Or you grab their nose and squeeze it, just like I just to myself. I never used to be like this. Selfless. …


Being a witness

10.28.20. 4:10am

I miss when blogs didn’t have to have a point. Before we discovered that adding a picture got more clicks. I miss waking up in coffee shops. I noticed I’m very particular about the mug I use for my coffee these days. They have to be one of those thick $30 dollar mugs or the small tin ones you hook to a backpack, the kind that people post on Instagram when they go glamping so we think they’re cool and rugged. I have two. Not sure why I’ve become so picky with mugs all of the sudden. Maybe I like myself more today. …


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The client I couldn’t help

Oct 5th. 7:45am

Warning: This is not a blog. This is personal writing. For me. Not you. It may or may not have a point. Most likely the latter.

I am tired. My hair is jacked. Didn’t sleep well again. I go through stretches of semi good sleep and shitty sleep. But it’s a lot better than the two years of FML no sleep I went through a few years ago. I was a human exhaust pipe, Edward Norton, before he met Brad Pitt. I’m also a lot less afraid of when the crash will hit. Usually in the afternoon. And if I’m lucky, I’ll actually nap. I always hope for the kind of nap where you wake up not knowing where you are or who you are. Those don’t happen when we’re adults. Our distorted thought don’t allow us to go that deep during the day. We live with mental electric sock fences that prevent us from hopping the achievement wall. Those deep naps are like rare collectibles if experiences were antiques. They remind me of junior high when I used to crash on my mom’s bed after school. Her bedroom came with the perfect breeze and the faint sound of kids playing outside. I felt the safest in that space. …


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A new dating app, rowing, and a bear.

September 4, 2020

It’s 3:33am Friday morning. I technically woke up at 2:47am when I got up to pee. Then I just laid in bed wide awake, thinking about life and where I’m at these days. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from years of insomnia, it’s that if you can’t sleep just get up. If you lay there, you’re just going to spin and get frustrated that you can’t sleep. I forget when you’re supposed to use lay and lie. It’s too early to judge myself. Anyway, Mark Wahlberg works out at 2am sometimes. …


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The 30,000ft View Exercise

6:21am. While nursing my morning coffee and staring out at the uncertainty of the world today, I decided to text my guy friends a few hard life questions you don’t usually think about this early at the risk of them thinking “Oh, here’s our therapist friend trying to be our therapist.” Which they have no problem saying out loud. And they usually do. But this morning, I didn’t get pushback or purposely hurtful jokes that don’t really hurt. It’s our way of connecting and I can dish them out as well. Instead, I got “Okay cool. …


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@penaphotography

Finding love, getting married, buying a house, and having 2.2 kids where mom wears an apron and dad clenches a briefcase is an outdated advertisement for people still on AOL.

I am forty seven years old. I am not married. My girlfriend is thirty six. Our daughter is five months old. She was born into a pandemic. She hasn’t seen many faces other than ours. We are both therapists. We work from home.

And we’re one and done. 1.0. No 2.2. Not interested in The Brady Bunch life. Now that we’re out of the first few months of survival mode where you lose complete sense of who you are and our life plane has stabilized, we are finding balance and ourselves again. We are both equally active in the childrearing and upkeep. I do dishes and change diapers while she gets her yoga class in. She breastfeeds and takes Logan on walks while I go to the gym and get my motorcycle rides in. We travel. Go out to eat. Play with sex toys. We are back. (Quick note: “Back” is not easy. It takes lots of work, that becomes a lifestyle. Not just a decision.) And now that we have found ourselves again, nothing has really changed before Logan came into our life save less sleep and planning when you need to shit. …


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Photo by Joshua Earle on Unsplash

Can you relate to this below?

Life is over there. I’m over here, watching. Everything I want to do is over there. The kind of person I want to be is over there. The way I want to love is over there. The dreams I have are over there. I see them. But I can’t grab them. Or at least that’s what I believe. So I just sit here and watch. Wish. Want.

Instead of living, I observe.

I spend my whole life watching. Replaying old memories and all the things that could have happened. Should have happened. All the almosts. All the could have beens. I carry them and play them back. Like an injured quarterback replaying his old college days because it’s all he has now. I spend my days in my head. Thinking. Dwelling. Dreading. Wondering. In fear. In worry. In contemplation. All behind a wall of plexiglass made of excuses and fear. I know all the things to do to change my life. …


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Sometimes growth is more about a reunion than anything else

This week has been a bit emotional for me.

In a good way.

I launched something called TAT (The Angry Therapist) LAB this week. Basically ClassPass for your mental and emotional health, using Zoom to run live wellness groups. One may think I’m trying to jump on the bandwagon and capitalize on everyone on Zoom right now looking for connections and a way to keep busy.

Yes, sure.

But there is also history to this. It’s tied to my story and mission. It goes back nearly a decade when I was on my therapist journey and frustrated with the strict guidelines of the clinical world. Webcams had just come out but we weren’t allowed to use them to help people and I didn’t understand why. We could instantly connect with people from all over the world. Finally deliver therapy. But due to licensure guidelines that differ from state to state, it would create confusion. This would mean the old model would need restructuring. …

About

The Angry Therapist

Author of “I Used To Be A Miserable F*CK” . IG: theangrytherapist.

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