Session One: Existentialism, or something like that.
Hi, my name is Jessie, and I'm a doubtaholic.
Um, nice to meet you, Jessie, but as we're not in a group setting, there's no need to be so, er, structured and ritualistic. Just relax and be yourself.
Well, see, that's why I'm here. I'm really not sure who "myself" is anymore...
I think I'm losing touch with reality. I've got all these grand ideas floating about in my head, and it would appear that none of them are even remotely realistic, though I SWEAR I could sometimes actually reach out and achieve them.
It bothers me, a lot, because then I start to wonder about life and stuff. Like, is this really my life that I'm living, or is it a mock Truman show thing? Are my friends real? Does anyone I meet even exist? Maybe I'm in a comatose state and this whole thing is a dream. How do I know what's real?
What feels real to you, Jessie?
Nothing! Everything! Nothing! All at the same time! I'm so confused and frustrated I could just scream! You see why I think I'm losing it?! I'm losing it. THAT feels real. You're not even real, and I'm just sitting here spewing my innermost thoughts in your general direction so you can respond in your learned and probative ways to force ME to do all the work and figure things out on my own. I wouldn't have come to you if I could figure this out on my own! What do you think I'm paying you for, anyhow? I don't even know why I'm here.
And how does that make you feel, Jessie?
Ahh, another probative response. Designed to make me evaluate the reasons behind what I just said. A tool to help me get to the bottom of the emotional well that is my fractured mind. Does it ever occur to you that maybe I'm the imaginary one, and you're actually the one doing all the work?
Seriously. What if I'm not real? What if I'm really just a figment of my own imagination? That's such a paradox, I might just die now. Can't even go any further on that one.
Maybe we should just blame my mom and leave it be at that.