Millennial therapy
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(TikTok screenshot)
(Every generation loves this, no?)
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(TikTok screenshot)
That sounds all to familiar
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That's a Boomer-ass decal that Millennial has on his window.
Millennials most certainly go to therapy too, there is a shortage of psychologists and it ain't the boomers going and genz can't get a job with health insurance. I joke but that's not really funny, now I'm sad, let me call my therapist.
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I think it depends on whether you can afford therapy.
Very fucking good.
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Well 4 12 inch Pyles and Miami Bass Wars in the cassette player but yeah totally …
wrote last edited by [email protected]non-secured bandpass box with 2 15’s and a ungodly oversized amp hastily wired in place, all in the trunk of a clapped out Chevy Lumina blasting Crazy Town - Butterfly has entered the conversation…
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This is correct. Genx plays music loud. Millenials gently insert their earbuds so they can quietly listen to soft sad music and not bother anyone.
I'm a millennial who put his headphones on to loudly play music... to not bother anyone with it.
Yes I have hearing damage. Not it's not just from the music.
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(TikTok screenshot)
Meanwhile, boomers rev their Harley Davidson motorcycles to drown out their thoughts.
I know the post is a joke, but millenial is the generation that paved the way to normalising mental health and therapy. Of course, not everyone would be on board. I know some of my peers who are stuck to the old ways and probably too afraid to even do therapy without even considering they don't have to tell someone they went to therapy.
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(Every generation loves this, no?)
Not millennials, we’re about going to therapy.
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Not millennials, we’re about going to therapy.
I am millennial as well! I guess this is a both/and scenario
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Millennials most certainly go to therapy too, there is a shortage of psychologists and it ain't the boomers going and genz can't get a job with health insurance. I joke but that's not really funny, now I'm sad, let me call my therapist.
wrote last edited by [email protected]I go to therapy every january.
The therapist assures me that we will be able to deal with my intense and labyrinthine shit.
The therapist suggests some pithy bullshit.
Then my inaurance runs out for the year.
