seldomifever: (nekid b/g)
God. My therapist just hit on a couple of points that have left me raw. Oof.

He may just fix me yet.
seldomifever: (nice)
A recent conversation with my therapist~

Me: I'm tired of being broken.
Him: You're not broken. I know broken and you're not. You are neurotic as hell, but you're not broken.

Hehe. It's funny because it's true.

I want to lose myself in the spirit of the holidays. I want to listen to Christmas music and decorate and bake and feel all peaceful and happy inside, but I'm afraid if I relax, something will get overlooked. It'll be Christmas Day and it'll turn out I forgot something essential.

Also, I must recommend if you ever have children, not to have any near the holidays. It really fucks everything up. How can I come up with enough stuff for my little guy? Although, when I asked him what he wanted, he did said, "I pretty much have everything already." Bless his little heart. But will he feel that way when he's got only two presents to open? Somehow I doubt it. *fret* *fret*
seldomifever: (b/g)
Oh therapist, how could I survive without you?

I have the smallest inkling of hope that one day I might actually be able to live guilt free. God, wouldn't that be wonderful? Everyday would seem like a vacation.
seldomifever: (landscape)
No therapy for me today. :( I looked at my calendar and it turns out that it's been more like 8 weeks since my therapist left. WTH? Doesn't he know he has crazy people to attend to?

While riding my exercise bike this AM, I rewatched Summer Hours. What a wonderful film! Makes me want to feel bad about not spending my free time relearning (or learning, if you wanna get technical) French. *sigh* I've always wanted to rent a house in the French countryside for the summer, but who am I kidding? I'd hate living without air conditioning and my kids would die if they couldn't play video games. C'est la something or other. I forget.
seldomifever: (giles play)
I'm trying to work out why I wake up every night anxious about our upcoming trip to London. This is the kind of situation in which my therapist might come in handy IF HE HADN'T DISAPPEARED FOR THE PAST SIX WEEKS! My calendar says he's back tomorrow. I have no idea if this means that's the day he's returning to the US or if we have a session. Note to self: take better notes.

Me mater is back in the hospital. She's having complications and needs to have another surgery tomorrow to sort things out. Um, yay?

I have a gabillion kajillion things I'm supposed to take care of and so far I've only accomplished a dozen. Mostly, I just want to clean my house, because it's irritating as hell to be tripping over these suitcases/Disney crap day after day.

I seriously need to work up the strength to fight with my school district for my older son once again. I'll have to find a polite way to let them know my butt's getting sore from all the smoke they're blowing up it. Thoughts of hiring a lawyer dance around my head and then make me instantly sleepy. Better than sheep, they are.

Eh, that's about all the kvetching I have in me for now. I'm bushed.

Ooh, and did you see this? Holy crap!
seldomifever: (nekid b/g)
Snowy, snowy. We hunkered down and remained indoors most of the day. Next door sister and nephew dug out our walk which was totally awesome of them. Husband worked from home and packed his own bag for Disney. Guess I get to pack the other four. Not that I mind. I'm just being moany.

I'm trying to not think about flying. My therapist wanted me to desensitize myself through twenty minute sessions of visualizing this trip, but I kinda did the exact opposite and went with the deny, deny, deny, panic route instead. My latest mantra is: "It's not a flying coffin. It's not a flying coffin." But who am I kidding? It fucking is.

Did I mention that we're going down 2 days early so we can visit with the in-laws at their home somewhere in central Florida first? Neat! I can hardly wait.

Tonight I'm gonna finish packing, get organized for tomorrow's meeting with older son's teachers, and then call my mom, who is looking and sounding good. God, I miss her.
seldomifever: (giles/ru)
Hrm. Today's therapy session kinda tanked at the end. Shrink has, I'm assuming inadvertently, fed into my dirtybadwrong neurotic tendencies, and now I'm feeling worse than I did before I began. Oof! I wonder if it would it be impolite to ask for a refund. Therapy comes with a money back guarantee, doesn't it?
seldomifever: (giles/ru)
Am no longer spiraling into the pits of despair, thanks to a shrink who is capable of snapping me back into place quite nicely. Perspective. He helps me keep it when every fiber of my being longs to remain stuck in the bleak-bellied underworld of misery. He's like my own personal flotation device. And he's an awfully nice fella.

Now, since I'm up, I think I'll shower, switch the laundry, and go pick up the kids. Later, I'll vacuum and walk the dog. Sounds like a plan. Why do I ever feel depressed? This life is fulfilling. Somewhat. Or, not much at all, really.

Think it's time for excess, don't you?

Maybe I should spend a lot of money on a new car. Hmm...but then I'd have to feel guilty about tooling around pointlessly, adding unnecessary mileage to my already over-extended carbon footprint. I'd consider going back to drinking heavily, but alcohol doesn't mix well with my stummy meds, and I am way, way more obnoxious drunk than I am sober. And smoking only triggers asthma attacks, although sometimes I wonder if suffocation isn't worth it, because I do miss it more than I could have ever imagined I would when I started, so the lesson there, I guess, is Don't Smoke. Or, hey, I could get a job. Like maybe at Barnes and Noble or someplace equally exciting, where nerdy coll grads pretend their $100,000 degree wasn't a complete waste, because they sell books, after all. Hmm. But if I worked at Barnes and Noble, I would want to smack all of those people who sit around pre-reading brand new books, so that poor suckers who can afford to buy the book, whose time is precious, who don't have the luxury of hanging out, sipping lattes, whilst lounging in over-sized comfy chairs because they have real responsibilities, they don't just live for themselves, you know, there are other people depending upon them, come in and buy it only to discover once they get it home that their precious book's spine is cracked and there are fingerprint-shaped coffee stains on the inside back cover. It'd drive me insane to watch all of those use-y layabouts, and I'd have to yell, "You wanna read a book for free? Go to the Goddamn library!" And then I'd be fired, because B&N will have a strict No Using the Lord's Name in Vain policy that was written into the bylaws at the same time they decided to install coffee shops that would sell limited Starbucks products (don't even think of asking for a decaf Frappuccino, btw), with the stipulation that these shops would not accept Starbucks gift cards, because they are not, repeat not, an actual Starbucks.

Ooh, time to get the kids. I should go.
seldomifever: (nice)
You know, I love my therapist. He's amazing - brilliant, kind, insightful. If it weren't for him, God knows where I'd be - probably peering out a window of Bellevue by now. But, he's an odd duck, as far as shrinks go. He says things like, "If you figure out how to be happy, let me know. We'll make a bundle." If I tell him I'm having anxiety attacks, he says, "Oh, I have those all the time." Or if I say, "I'm forgetful and easily distracted", and he says, "Me, too! I thought I was just going senile." Hrm. Not what I expect to hear from a professional, and, yet, for some reason, I find it endearing. Makes me trust him all the more.
seldomifever: (facepalm)
Having a weird day. Busy, though not enough to make a real impact on my Dumb Things list. Had a good session with my therapist this morning. The guy's wicked smaht. Insight has its bennies. And Lord knows, I'm eager to change. Mostly. I'm still making inexcusable excuses, so progress is slow. And expensive. Keep thinking that if I just wish for something long and hard enough, I won't have to do any of the actual work involved in getting me there. I don't ask for much, just want to lose weight without sticking to my points, want to be fit without having to exercise every day, want a clean house without lifting a finger, want a perfect dog without having to train him properly. Am gradually learning to accept that none of these things will ever happen unless I make them so. Am also coming to grips with the sad and sorry fact that I am never ever ever gonna fuck Anthony Head. O disappointment, thy name is reality!

On a completely unrelated note, older son really digs the bass and the drums, so we've been listening to a lot of Femmes lately. This song's da bomb, cats and kittens. Check it.
seldomifever: (scruffy)
Blerg. I'm all headachey and hungry and my house is a mess and my mind is a mess. Have a to-do list floating around here somewhere, but I really, really, really, don't wanna do much of anything, except veg out. Been looking through the adult ed courses available at our local community college. Shrink and I decided it would be best if I took a history course, so my fragile ego would not be smashed to little teeny bits in the creative writing class he'd originally pushed for. Trouble is, history courses aren't offered in the adult ed program. Adults are interested in pursuing hobbies, or learning new vocations, according to the class list. So now I am seriously reconsidering the writing courses. Which sounds better: the Tuesday night class that offers "a chance to discover my distinctive style and voice", or the Thursday evening one that tells me I will have a "positive experience studying 'the tools' of creative writing"? Hrm. Prolly should just take "Back to Basics: Self-esteem 101". It promises I "will leave the seminar with the tools to have an ongoing happy marriage with your(my)self", or, possibly, I will just leave hungry, if I fail to bring lunch.

God, flist. Nothing appeals, but I know I need something. Brain needs food, stimulation, that certain je ne sais quoi that is missing from my morbid existence. Why is it so hard to focus? Focus!

Ooh, here's one: "Declutter Your Stuff, Declutter Your Life". Apparently, "the word clutter comes from the block your life force...your life energy." That sounds promising...and relevant. I will be "introduced to Wabi Sabi (humble simplicity in Japanese) as tool for reflection, self-nurturing, and inner growth". Hm. S'all well and good, but I ask you--is it enough? Could one $25, four hour seminar really make such a difference? And wouldn't that four hours be better spent actually decluttering my house?
seldomifever: (16yroldb/g)
Nephews are always playing Norwegian Wood, and now the song is stuck in my head and I don't seem to own a copy of it. Why on earth not? It's feckin' perfect. Drats. The cool new thing we've discovered on YouTube are the vids of people teaching layfolk how to play various songs. Daughter has been working on beginning riff of Guns N Roses' Sweet Child of Mine. She genuinely enjoys listening to Axl Rose. His singing makes me want to drive an ice pick into my eardrums, so I can be free of the ghastly whine. Even beats annoying Rush lead singer as Worst Voice Evar. And middle son of course has to love Rush. I'm in music hell. Never should have dumped Raffi and the Wiggles for this lot. Oy!

Stories are at a standstill, but I've got lots I'm working through in my head. Have failed miserably at flistian feedback this summer. Thought I'd catch up on all of my reading on the Cape, but dial-up foiled my plans. Plus, I really enjoyed taking a break from the ff. I read actual books. Several of them, in fact. And they were good.

Shrink wants me to take a course this semester, but I've done nothing about signing up for one. Also thinks I should volunteer for Obama. Dunno. He's not stirring me the way Al did, but I will be miserable under Republican leadership, so I'm sure it is worth pursuing. Thing is, I have a major aversion to zealots. Well, unless they are BG fans, of course. Then they're cool. We're becoming an endangered species, I fear. Possibly shifting toward the Critically Endangered list, as fandom grows restless and moves onto bigger, though definitely not better, shows and pairings. I'm finding it difficult to reread the same stories for the billionth time. I scour the net, searching for new fics high and low, but they are too few and far between. Mrr.
seldomifever: (Default)
Went to Sam Ash and bought a drum set today. Son is so happy. He's been teaching himself to play for the past couple of months, and is dying to learn on a real set and not on his brother's Little Tikes drum or the ones that came with Rock Band. I've never seen this boy so driven. He practices drumming and playing the guitar for a couple of hours a day. He's even been working on the piano, which is unheard of, even though he's been taking lessons for 2 1/2 years.

We received our daughter's first letter today. Only took a week to get to us. She sounded very happy, so I am relieved. She's been playing soccer with the boys, because none of the girls in her group play. That's pretty odd, because everyone around here is crazy about soccer. When I was a kid, I was the only girl who played with the boys at recess, but nowadays, all the girls do, and there's really no such thing as a tomboy any more. I'm glad that she's not holding herself back from doing something she enjoys. And, she said that she ran circles around a lot of the boys, so she was really pleased with herself. Some English counselor dude made a big fuss over her. Adults always love her, but unlike me, she does not seem to love them back. She prefers people her own age. What's up with that?

I had to stop working on my story today. I absolutely hate it right now. I know that this is not unusual for me, so I will plow through it, but still. I want writing to be fun, not some form of torture. My therapist keeps trying to get me to see how counterproductive it is to be so hyper critical of myself all of the time. I wish I could just not care. Of course the irony is that I'm not a better writer for all of my suffering, just a paralyzed one. Well that blows. Think I'll meditate and regroup and try again. Or maybe I'll read some poetry. Or maybe take a walk. Sometimes I just have to get out of my head, and then I can come back and try again. Here's hoping.
seldomifever: (nice)
My house has finally stopped asking me to look after it. I think it's dying. Suffocating under heaps of toys and laundry. Haven't touched the clothes in two days, which means the piles in the basement have prolly reached the ceiling. Mrr. I hate housework. Makes my head ache. Whiny, whiny pantses.

Last night, my husband and I conferred with our youngest's teacher. He's wonderful, she wishes she had a class full of hims, life would be glorious. I warned her of his seasonal allergies and she told the nurse and the nurse called me today to discuss. They may have to keep him indoors for recess. Poor little piker. May's the best month of the year, and he's trapped inside in air conditioning. I guess we could get him those shots my husband used to get to protect him from the next bee sting. Good grief, that sounds a little nightmarish.

We left the school last night and headed straight for my ex-brother-in-law Kathryn's father's wake. Kathryn was so happy we were all there. Bowled over by the love. He kept saying how horrible it was to lose his dad, but how wonderful it was to see that we still love him. As if I could stop. Ever. He was a lousy husband and father and is not a terribly attractive woman, but I've adored him since I was twelve. I can't turn that off, even if I am angry that he hurts other people with his selfishness. I'd like to see him again soon. He's completely brilliant and totally emotionally retarded. Sounds like half the feckin' world.

Speaking of which...I had my first therapy session in ten years. Why the heck did I wait so long? The guy was all "Wow, I rarely make such progress in the first session." Yeah, well, I have few skills. Examining my navel is one of them. And I'm not committed to remaining fucked up forever. That helps.


seldomifever: (Default)

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