7:40 p.m. - November 22, 2004
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Reaping the harvest of those I-don't-need-anybody-seeds tonight. I would give anything to sit close to someone, perhaps be hugged. No, I am in direct want of a hug like those in heartwarming scenes in saccharine-sweet movies. Today Brad told me he and his wife must return to Chicago in late December, meaning my therapy with him will terminate soon. His wife has a (rare?) condition and the best specialist is located there and as pained as he is, he must go. I understood and I do but I am (was?) feeling selfish, my stomach lurched and I'm sitting here thinking of course, this is what happens. I open up and it's hard to tell someone my most painful and private things and in an instant it can be taken away, it being that freedom to talk and not hide behind words with someone who was patient and didn't give up and to whom I yielded in this tug-of-war that is half defense, half eagerness and wholly wanted.
We talked a little about my situation. Dr. Indy is doing research somewhere and cannot take on new (or returning, in my case) clients, so I am, or will be, adrift. Brad says he's working on referrals to therapists but I'm so mad and scared, angry even, and it serves me right. Hurt does not happen unless one is foolish and allows ingress and my head is pounding to the rhythm of stuu-pid, stuu-pid, stuu-pid. I know, the rational part knows things like this happen and I'm so sorry for him and his wife, but like a selfish bastard it's all about me, doesn't anybody want me at all? No reply necessary because I know the answer.
It is my fault for thinking therapy was a lifeline, a flicker in the dark and it was, it is, but I only have 3 more sessions and then I'm alone. Oh God I don't know what I'm going to do and I don't understand why I'm like this, hate with fire the who and why I am, wish I had - no more wishes, they are false hopes.
Just suck it up and smile, launch I'm fine mode. I don't want the phone to ring, I want the doorbell to chime and be honest when someone asks, How are you? It would be better were I to go to someone's door and say I need to talk, can you listen? But like with most things reality precludes such an action.
When I get like this I hold onto a stuffed animal and I feel pathetic and absolutely alone because that awareness I keep at bay rushes in like the tide and I can't deny how terrible I feel.
