Number 26

Status update

Tomorrow morning I have an appointment with my therapist. As is my habit, I find myself reflecting on my life and where I'm at - because she'll ask, right?

Dad died on November 13.  I tried to cry.  I tried to really feel it, you know, but I couldn't.  I felt strangely indifferent.  Now, I can't get it off of my mind.

Confession #1: I'm writing while sitting at the coffee shop - my home away from home.  I spend so much time here.  I'm guessing because it's not the house.  It's my hideaway.

I'm angry.  To an outside observer, I imagine that might be a surprise.  I've learned to do such a good job keeping my emotions in check, that even I am surprised by the amount of anger I have festering deep inside me.  I want to punch and hit and bite and scream myself hoarse.  I want to breakdown and cry with the sucking heaves.  I'm not sure why, because I'm not exactly sure what I'm angry at.  Fate?  Life?  Rebecca?  I'm also not sure why I can't let myself go...

Confession #2:  Can I be completely honest with my therapist (and does it matter one way or the other)?  At this point I'm planning on showing this to her.  Will I follow through?  In the extremes of my loneliness, coupled with my inability to reach out to others can I make her understand my frustration at the limits of our relationship?  It also begs the question: What's the purpose of therapy in my life right now?

Oh God, my loneliness threatens to consume me.

Meanwhile, Emma and Grace need a fully functioning parent and I just feel like I'm slipping away...