Goofy Therapist

Goofy therapist

Today’s therapy session was the goofiest I have had in a long time. I started off by calling her goofy and that was it. She was in hysterics for whatever reason. I told her about the dream I had last night where I could “fly” down stairs and while walking. In the same dream, I was getting away from someone as things had gone bad where I was, hence the reason for my flying. I went to a Starbucks that apparently I frequented so much that they wanted to name a drink after me. I woke up before I learned the name of the drink. I had just gone in there with the intention of getting a chili mocha, which I did have today. It was ok except they must have used non-fat milk which I don’t like. It tasted like a water mocha. Gross.

She was telling me how the sauce that I gave her was now gone and we were talking about food for a while in the midst of her trying to analyze this dream. I guess in the entry I wrote about how I was going to make ham and cheddar biscuits and she said that she needs to eat before we talk because I was making her hungry. Goofball, I am telling you. I didn’t tell her what I had for breakfast because I didn’t want her to drool anymore than she already was.

Also in the session with my therapist, once I was able to get her away from my dream analysis, she kind of understood now why my moods change so rapidly when I am in pain. I had started off with a day letter and then I wrote again around 11 pm (2305 to be precise). I wrote how bad the pain was and how much I wanted to end my life. We briefly talked about how much I wanted to end my life but she didn’t want me to, obviously. I kind of got upset at this, but I didn’t let on about it. There was no point because I would be talking to a wall. She gets why I want to kill myself and can see how my mood can change to radically, but she doesn’t want me to end my life over it. Typical. I wanted to tell her that I already had plans to but I just couldn’t. I really want to see the Frida Kahlo exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts first.

After session, I returned my mother’s phone call. She always calls me during session. EVERY SINGLE TIME. Then she gets mad at me because god forbid I should have someone on the other line. She wanted to know if I was going out and I did tell her I planned to. She has been asking me every single day when am I going to the Square because the Family Dollar Store has soap on sale. I went today and there was no such sale. I bought two packages but didn’t tell my mother I paid the regular price. It was only 0.75 cents more.

While at Starbucks, I got two mochas, my chili mocha and a regular iced mocha. I got two in case I didn’t like the chili one. I didn’t like it so I am glad I had the other one to drink. I typed up my story from the other night. I couldn’t believe it was 21 words short of being 850 words! I was really mad at myself because I kind of left off at a cliffhanger. I couldn’t believe I left off at such an ending. I had wanted to write more but it was nearly 330 in the fucking morning so I went to sleep. I didn’t know I left off with such a dramatic stopping of words. I hate writing at night for this reason because once I lose my train of thought, it’s hard to get back into it. I did that with the “Roots” story I wrote. I had started that at the wee hours of the morning, too. So while I was thinking, I texted my therapist and read Twitter. I didn’t turn on the WiFi at Starbucks because it would be too much of a distraction to me. I could put my phone down, but wouldn’t be able to get off the browsers on my laptop. Then I knew I would get lazy and wouldn’t write anymore. After I bitched about being short on words, I went back to my document and wrote about 100 words. Final word count was 961. It’s still not finished yet so I am sure it will be around 1200 or more by the time I done with it. Using the font Comic Sans, I was able to get 2 and half pages of work done. Not bad. It kind of goes along with my other stories in the book so I hope it flows well.

With these 3 pages or so, I think that will bring my page count up to maybe 118 pages. I really want the book to have 200 pages, at least. This doesn’t include any introduction or preface or any other miscellaneous writing. I haven’t sorted out what that will look like yet, or if I really want to have that. In the memoir that I read last week, it had a page that stated this was a book based on her memories and experiences. I might follow that logic in my writing as I didn’t really take these writings from anywhere but my experiences. It’s sort of like a second memoir book that is just stories about my psychotic experiences and delusional thinking. It seems every psychotic/delusional episode I have is different and wild. Sometimes I write about them in my blog when they are over with. Unfortunately, the current delusion hasn’t passed entirely yet.

While I was taking out my laptop to return to my room, I came across a manila envelope that has my father’s health care proxy paperwork in it. I don’t think I need to be carrying that around anymore. Now it’s in my “office” on my bed. I don’t know what to do with it.

I need to get up early tomorrow to see my Neurologist. I need to take a shower tonight because I doubt there will be time in the morning as I am not a morning person. I basically won’t be watching the Sox game tonight as it’s on late. Game is on the west coast. Tomorrow also marks the anniversary of when I published for the New York Times. I just hope I wake up early enough to make coffee because I won’t be going to the Square until maybe the afternoon, after my appointment.

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G. Collerone

suicide attempt survivor writing about the hopelessness that accompanies depression that no one likes to talk about. also writing about my daily struggle with chronic pain and how it affects my suicidality

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