by The king reflects on four decades of unprocessed royal rage
On A Chamber Where One Simply Talks
Good people, I was this week persuaded by a well-meaning courtier to attend a session of what is called therapy, wherein a subject sits in a comfortable chair and discusses their feelings with a trained professional for the sum of one hour, at the conclusion of which no one is executed, imprisoned, or even mildly inconvenienced beyond the fee. I confess I found the entire arrangement bewildering, having spent four decades resolving mine own feelings through considerably more direct means.
The therapist did ask me, quite early in our session, whether I had ever considered that my anger toward Anne Boleyn might have stemmed from feelings of inadequacy regarding the production of a male heir, rather than any genuine fault of Anne’s own. I confess this observation struck rather closer to the mark than four hundred years of royal historians have generally been willing to admit.
On The Matter Of Journaling
This therapist did further suggest I keep a journal of mine own feelings, writing daily of whatever troubles me, as an alternative to more drastic action. I did keep such records in mine own day, though mine were generally called Acts of Parliament and tended to result in rather more dissolved monasteries than personal insight.
On The Concept Of Attachment Style
I am informed I display what is called an anxious attachment style, characterized by a deep fear of abandonment and a tendency toward controlling behavior in relationships. I confess that having personally executed two wives specifically to prevent them from leaving me first, this diagnosis strikes me as, if anything, rather generous.
The King’s Verdict On Modern Therapy
I do hereby declare therapy a genuinely useful institution, chiefly because it addresses feelings before they metastasize into an international religious schism. Had a therapist been available to me at Hampton Court, I daresay the Church of England need never have been founded, and at least four of my wives should have lived rather longer and considerably happier lives.
I am further told this therapist keeps all our conversations in strictest confidence, sharing nothing with outside parties without my express consent. I confess this arrangement would have proven rather useful in mine own court, wherein confiding a private grievance to a single advisor generally resulted in that grievance reaching the Spanish ambassador by the following Tuesday.
Full and glorious source of this tale, as ever, upon The London Prat: https://prat.uk/therapy-mental-health-awareness-trends/
