Showing posts with label Therapy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Therapy. Show all posts

Saturday, March 17, 2012

Spacebrain 2.0

It's 7-fucking-30 on a Saturday morning and I've been up for almost an hour. Why? Because I forgot to turn off my alarm clock last night, of course! During the week, when I have to get up and go to work, I usually feel like hitting the snooze button about a million times. Today I'm awake! I really don't like life's sense of humor.

I broke my Twitter break last night but I acted pretty civilized and didn't overshare too much. And two of the three people I texted/called totally ignored me. And I texted early. There's no way both of them were asleep already before nine o'clock.
I take stuff like that very personally. My therapist brought up my not asking people to spend time with me for the upteenth time just this Thursday. (And I hate answering the same questions over and over again. I might just have to mention that.) And this is exactly why I don't do that much. Because they don't want to spend time with me. Because it's me. And who can blame them? I wouldn't hang out with me if I had a choice.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

To begin with...


Today was therapy-time again. I didn't mention yesterday's breakdown (just ask my twitter-friends...) for the simple reason that I know exactly what it was and where it came from. A mixture of alcohol, PMS (it's seems to be getting a problem since last month), my cute little personality disorder and the fact I will never ever be over my Ex. But I really didn't feel like talking about it.

So, as last week, all we talked about was that I want to join a choir.

All of my time in school I was a passionate choir girl and I love to sing. Although I would never do it sober and knowing that somebody's watching. But then it is my fear of people that stops me from signing up somewhere.

My therapist said I should make a pro- and con list, which basically probably is a pretty good idea. Except I hate pro- and con lists.

And once again I noticed that she generally speaks a lot more than I do. I don't mind. I'm always pretty self-conscious in conversations. And I still think it's a better way of handling it that the old bag who always has her session before me. She talks without stopping and so loudly that I could probably fix her right from the waiting room.

Well, all in all it wasn't a very good day but one that was easily bearable. And the one on which I decided to write again.