Help me help you help yourself. And then let's go public!

So what we did was we put tiny stretched out on a couch, after we had finished a cider & soup-dinner and a delicious dark and white chocolate cake covered in various roasted nuts. Having briefly discussed whether a canapé is a divan or finger food, we quickly identified tiny's very outspoken wish to “become normal” as the key symptom of her disease. With the help of Rorschach ink blots we encouraged her to see genitals where she at first glance had seen nothing but factories and Santas. When she had hugged a pillow for thirty minutes or so, while getting a jellybean for each of what we considered to be the only one correct genital-answer to the ink-blot pictures, we finished the session and watched half an episode of the unfathomable series named True Blood. I think, all in all, we did good, Ape and I.

According to Lisa, in France, all you have to do to work as a psychoanalyst is to have undergone psychoanalysis yourself. Yup. It's what I’d like to call a “Plan B”.

These are tiny's "two santas" that we successfully made her turn into a "vagina"