As I listened to the incessant ticking of the clock on the wall in the reception area, I actively repressed the urge to vomit. There’s just something about office spaces with their reflective linoleum tile, fluorescent lighting, and cheap Renoir knockoff paintings hanging on eggshell-painted walls that makes me physically ill.
The tapping of my shoe against the floor could surely be mistaken for nerves but in reality, it was what one fired therapist referred to as a “grounding...
