I didn’t look at him while I sang, even though I’m pretty sure I was singing to him… or about him. I looked at a random stranger. I didn’t look at my husband either, though he was in the room. My husband is definitely not the “worrisome thing” the song was referencing.
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We’ve been fighting a lot though. I fight with him most often when he’s not there. I yell at him and say the most awful things. I apologize to him after the fact. This always confuses him because he was not indeed there for the fight.
...read more hereI know that I have a tendency to fall into the belief that everyone else is, including my old-but-obviously-inexperienced-with-the-ways-of-the-world therapist (can you tell that I’m a youngster?) and that I am the only person in the room if not in the world with half an ounce of vision and good sense. I told the doctors that at Bellevue. They raised their eyebrows at me and nodded their heads. I guess everyone in Bellevue says that, huh?
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I wish I’d had a weapon, or that I’d had longer nails. I wish I’d had a stick or a broken bottle. I wish I’d thought to poke his eyes out. I would have gone to jail, but it would have been worth it.
...read more hereWriting Prompts:
2.) A post your mom would write if your mom wrote posts.
For some reason, the thought of the old man cold-sweating and pacing frantically in a jail cell, albeit only for one night, is just not that funny to me. In fact, it’s a thought that makes me want to stop thinking about it.
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I managed to crawl out of bed with enough strength to call my therapist, and strangely after our brief conversation which consisted of nothing but a confirmation that our session was indeed canceled today because she had a nasty cold, I felt better.
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I don’t know why I have a therapist. Okay, yes I do: ’twas the doctor’s order. But on the real tip (as the older cats say) I don’t know why I have a therapist. Don’t get me wrong; she seems like a good person, and she genuinely tries to follow what I say, but talking to her feels like talking to you, and I don’t pay nearly as much to talk to you.
...read more hereI didn’t expect to hear from him at all today, but I did. He called the ward patient phone while I was in “art therapy group” stringing beads together for a bracelet. He wanted to continue the argument. I wanted to continue my bracelet.
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