Alex Barnes-Ross Drives His Therapist Crazy

Alex… Mr. Barnes-Ross, I’m concerned. Concerned, yes, but also, frankly, more than a little confused.

We began these sessions to help you get over what you claimed was your horrible time in Scientology. But after 9,753 hours of therapy, that doesn’t seem to be the case.

Bear with me a moment while I review my notes. Hmm, where are they? Oh, right here, propping up that wobbly fourth leg of my couch—ha ha! If you’d get up for a second while I get them out from under it… there we go! You can lie back down now.

All right. Now, on March 22, 2023, you said that, when you were in Scientology, you were “doing the right thing,” that you were “making all these friends… and having a great time and helping people.” I mean, those are your exact words.

You, sir, are anything but cool, hip, fun and vibrant—so I can see at once why you didn’t make it there.

No, I’m not taking that out of context, Mr. Barnes-Ross. I heard you very clearly and I wrote down every word. I am a very good listener. People come from miles around just to hear me listen. Now, SHUT UP AND LET ME TALK.

You not only told me these things—after you allegedly hated Scientology—but you had videos posted all over the internet saying the exact same things. (You do realize that the whole point of the internet is that people can see what you post, right?)

You also told me (and YouTube) that leaving the Church “was the most heartbreaking, earth-shattering thing to have ever happened” to you. 

Yes, you said that. I certainly didn’t. No, there’s no mistake. See, right up here at the top of the page, right below the sticky note, “how much more whinging can one therapist take?”

Now, if you permit me, you’ll notice an emerging pattern here. You come here complaining about this ghastly, awful, tortured period of your life, yet you’ve got nothing but regret that it’s all over. That is not normal, Mr. Barnes-Ross. It doesn’t even come up to being abnormal. It’s just, well, crazy. You’re crazy.

Oh, you want a second opinion, do you? Well, second opinion this: You’re stupid, too.

Now if you would kindly stop interrupting me, I’ll go on. On October 9, 2023, you described the Church of Scientology as “cool, hip, fun and vibrant.” 

Now, this is actually quite illuminating. You, sir, are anything but cool, hip, fun and vibrant—so I can see at once why you didn’t make it there.

Hey, don’t take that tone with me. I’m your therapist and you’re paying me to give you my professional opinion. (At least you’re supposed to be paying me. Let me just check your account.)

GAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!! YOU HAVEN’T PAID ME A DIME!!!

No, no, no, don’t even THINK of leaving, Mr. Barnes-Ross. The door is locked and we’re eight stories up, so the window is no option either. You tell me right now how you plan to bring this account current.

And don’t give me that crap about a really cool business you’re getting off the ground. How many “businesses” have started and flopped in your basement—Fashion Plus Magazine? Barnes-Ross Agency? Therapy Records? And that last one was with your mom? 

Just grow up before I throw up.

Whose fault is it that you burned that bridge? Scientology was “everything” to you—you said so yourself!

You’ve got one week, you hear me? One. Week. Maybe you can con your three followers into coughing up what you owe me. (You said they handled your rent, after all.)

And we’re going to finish this session—for my sake now, not yours.

You said your problems preceded Scientology. So what in the name of Wilhelm Wundt are we even doing here?! How can we fix all your problems “stemming from Scientology” when none of them stemmed from Scientology in the first place?

And look at this! Another time you said Scientology “was everything to me,” that “Scientology is the best way to help people” and that being in Scientology was the last time you felt that “this is who I am.” So to review: You hate Scientology. You hate it so much that you tell the world how wonderful it is on the BIGGEST PLATFORM ON EARTH: THE INTERNET. Who’s going to believe someone who says, “the time I spent in a religion was the greatest time of my life—it was so hip, so cool and so heartbreaking to leave and oh, by the way, I really hate it and they practically tortured me there.”

If you’re looking for sympathy with that, you are 53 cards short of a deck.

I don’t know what to believe—and neither, obviously, do you, “Apostate Alex.”

I’m done. I quit. I can’t take this anymore.

What should you do? The question is, what should I do? I’ve suffered 10,000 hours of you already. Look at me! I’m a wreck! I’m going to need at least 10,000 hours to recover from you. But do you care? Of course not! It’s always been about “poor, victimized, put-upon, messed-up Alex.” Boo-hoo-hoo!

Here’s some free advice before I kick you out: If you’re “horrifically depressed” and “see no point in doing anything,” as you say, then why don’t you go back to the only place you were happy—the place that was “fun,” the place where you had actual friends, the place where you really felt like yourself. Duh.

Hah! Well, whose fault is it that you burned that bridge? Scientology was “everything” to you—you said so yourself!

But—wait a minute! You don’t actually want help, do you? You just want to screw over anyone who tries to help you. That’s right.

Oh, don’t you threaten me with a “blog”! Oh, I’m soooo scared of you and your one visitor a day who stays for 14 seconds! A lot of good that “web content” did you with Scientology. Just made you a laughing stock.

Now, get off my couch and get out, Alex Barnes-Ross. It was not nice knowing you.

Five minutes later

Thank God he’s gone. I should google that church. From what he said, if anything can cure me of Alex Barnes-Ross, it’s Scientology.