Well. There’s my answer…

I’ll be moving to a new apartment in a couple months, and my therapist asked if I’d want her to refer me to someone closer to the new place.

1. Now I think my therapist wants to get rid of me.

2. I said, “I don’t know, unless you think I don’t even NEED to be in therapy…?” and she raised her eyebrow damn near off her head, and I laughed, and she laughed, and so… yeah. Guess I’m gonna keep going.

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Disabling enabling

I ran into a former coworker the other day and added him on Facebook, so I guess now Facebook is all, “Hey, we recognize that professional circle! Might you also want to be friends with That Guy?”

No, Facebook. I’ve told you that before. Twice, I believe. But thanks, I felt like feeling weird today. (I have no idea what the feeling is. Not angry, just…weird. Nothing will come of analyzing that NOW, though, so there’s no point — just don’t tell my therapist I said that.)

“Maybe I’ll change her mind with thinly veiled anger and insults…” 🖕🏼

When you dare ignore their first OkCupid message, sometimes men send followups.

I AM a humorless therapy-goer, but mofo ain’t sexy. Trust.

Entropy > Therapy

The other day I told my therapist that I think the country is fucked beyond repair, and she had no counterpoint, and THEN all this shit in VA happened so… yeah…

Drink up, y’all. Humanity’s had a good run. Cheers.

I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and doggonnit…

Texting a friend about therapy:

Me: “We ended up talking about why I don’t consider myself ‘beautiful.’ She showed me a fucking Dove commercial. I’m never going back. (Kidding.)”

Friend: “No one should be forced to watch a Dove commercial.”

And by the way? I don’t consider myself beautiful, and I don’t see a problem with that, so fuck right off, Dove. But I am a middle-age American woman who mostly thinks I’m cute, sometimes pretty, so I do think I’m a goddamn miracle.

Besides, “beautiful” doesn’t even crack the top 100 on my list of issues. When I think about my last pseudo-breakup, my appearance isn’t what keeps my brain spiraling. He once got hard while we were taking a walk because I made a JOKE about wearing high heels during sex — it’s easy enough to believe he found me attractive. So can we focus on this weird haze I get into where I think I’m not smart or interesting enough to keep a dude around AFTER we have sex, even as a friend? That seems to be the dominating self-esteem weirdness here.