Background on the 'Fuck You'

I stopped seeing my therapist because, well, I was in a weird place in my life, and she was trying to help, but she pushed me a little too much. I mean, I didn't tell her she was pushing me too hard, of course. I didn't draw a boundary. But she pushed and out came the fuck you. I mean, I didn't say to her, "Fuck you." I just never went back, despite the fact that I had immense respect and affection for her. I always felt guilty because I never explained myself, I just vanished.

In the last year or so, I've gone back to see her. And it took awhile, but we finally had a conversation about why I left. And that's when we really got to talking about the fuck you.

Part of sorting out the fuck you has been talking about what works and what doesn't work for me. See, I have strategies that really work for me...but they don't always work for me, so I decided my job was to realize when they're not working and find a new strategy. And to be more grateful for the strategies that do work, when they work.

I can't remember exactly what we were talking about, but she said this amazing thing to me that I will never forget as long as I live:

You finesse the fuck you in a beautiful way.

Who's therapist says that? Mine does.

And I do. Fuck you has done a whole lot of good for me. In fact, I knew I had a whole lot of fuck you, but it wasn't until recently that I realized how much. Sometimes it gets the job done, but sometimes it is just instinct.

One day my therapist said something really pointed. Well, it really hit a button and was spot-on, but got at something truly revealing about me that I don't think I really wanted to address or acknowledge. 

"Fuck you, ________," I said, smiling and shaking my head.

I paused for a moment. "You know that's a compliment, right?" I said. And it was.