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10-04-04 11:12 p.m. A Nervous Persian
I had an appt. with my therapist today which I wasn't looking forward to. I missed the
Friday before last because I'd went and disappeared into a bottle yet again. This past
Friday I'd gotten bumped because of some appt. he had. (My therapist sees a Psychiatrist,
have I ever mentioned that? You know, heh, come on, you gotta laugh at the idea. That wasn't
what his appt. was for though).
I suppose I wouldn't have dreaded it so much if, after 9 months or so of seeing him, we
hadn't bonded because now he cares enough to be disappointed in me and my failures. And unlike family or friends
that don't know what to say or how to deal with it when I relapse, he, has plenty.. to say..
I wasn't even that concerned about that either. What bothered me is I was in the best mood
and feeling the best I had felt in a long, long time. And for no particular reason that can
think of even.
I'm not trying to be overly dramatic about this, but it seriously felt like someone had flipped
on the light switch. I wanted to bask, I wanted to express my joy, but the glasses on his
face were set waaaayy down on his nose and the first sentence was "Well, it seems we have
a lot to talk about.." *Meh* I wouldn't say I was combative, but I was most definitely
assertive and somewhat defensive. I mean, look, everyone is running into a wall with me
including myself over my drinking, (or rather, my seeming inability to stop I should say).
But a day like today, (and yesterday too really), is some VERY necessary
fuel for what has been blind faith and hope in a vacummn when seen through my muddied head in the
past year.
Anyway, I decided to not let what he had to say bust up my groove. Don't worry Heir Dokter,
I stored the guilt to munch on later. I just don't feel like being Charlie Brown right now.
Today I want to be Lucy.
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