Ace Jones: Mad Fat Adventures in Therapy Read Online Free Page A

privacy laws these days are so sticky.”
    â€œRight, sorry. Well, we both know she comes here. I mean, she told me she was and she’s the one who gave me that gift certificate or whatever you want to call it and I know she had to tell you about this because that whole incident was why she started coming here in the first place.”
    â€œGetting back to you, Ace.”
    â€œRight. Getting back to me.”
    â€œWhy aren’t you happy?”
    Oh boy. “Well, I made a decision that I thought was right for me, but then it wasn’t and now I’ve wrecked my whole life. Well, not wrecked.”
    â€œIt’s okay to say that.”
    â€œOkay, it’s wrecked. My life is wrecked bigger than shit. I showed my ass and quit my job and moved out of my house. Chloe rented it for a while after her divorce but then she just bought a new house so I was able to move right back in when I moved back to Bugtussle.” She raises her eyebrows at me. “So at least I have a home.”
    â€œThat’s a good thing,” she says and makes another note in my folder. “Tell me what else is good in your life.”
    â€œI have great friends and a fabulous dog.”
    â€œThose are very good things,” she says. “A home, friends, a loving pet.” I want to tell her that Buster Loo is so much more than a pet, but I don’t. She continues, “So let’s talk about what you want to change in your life and why.”
    â€œOh Lord,” I say. “See, the thing about me is that I really enjoy helping other people solve their problems but I’d very much prefer to carry on like I don’t have any. Ever since college, I’ve just kind of lived this safe little comfortable life, but I always felt like something was missing. Like I could do more and be happier somehow, but I was scared to make any changes. Then out of the blue one day, my big opportunity came and I packed up and moved to Florida to live my dream life with my fiancé. What’s really sad is that I honestly thought it was my time to shine, you know, my time to really live life and be happy, but it wasn’t. Not a damn thing down there turned out anything like it was supposed to and now I’m back up here and I’m heartbroken and I’m depressed and I want my old job back and I don’t know if or how that can be done and this is why I help other people fix their problems because it always seems to turn out fine for them, but this chance I took with my life—wow. I fucked that up big time and now it’s just a wreck.”
    â€œOkay,” she says, and she’s writing again. “Now let’s define ‘wreck.’”
    â€œWreck. Let’s see . . . I have no job. I’m down to single digits in my savings account. I wear jogging pants every day. I take entirely too many naps. And I’ve gotten to where I don’t even want to leave my house anymore.” There, I said it.
    â€œYou mentioned the job first, so can we talk about that?”
    â€œWell, naturally, another teacher had to be hired to fill the vacancy when I left, and the school board would probably rather see me tarred and feathered than to offer me another teaching position at Bugtussle High School.”
    â€œWhy not apply in another district?” she asks, and I lie there and stare at those beautiful ceiling tiles. The answer is simply because I don’t want to, but I don’t tell her that. We sit in silence for a moment and then she continues, “Okay, let me ask you this: Would having your old job back solve all of your problems?”
    I don’t answer right away and I’m ready to start squalling for real and I don’t even know why. After several minutes pass, I say, “Having that job would solve a lot of my problems.”
    â€œThe immediate ones, I suppose,” she says. “A job would put money in your bank account, require you to wear