One less

You know that one wild sex partner friend everyone has that you can call up any hour of the day or night for a little...sex fun, and they'll come running?

Well, I called mine off yesterday. :-(  It wasn't easy, and I'd given it waaaay more thought than I probably should have, but it's done. And although I was laughed at, I did it anyway. And my therapist actually gave me a high five. I guess she doesn't hate me anymore. When a person of influence sees progress in their student, it gives a sense of satisfaction. And she was GLOWING with satisfaction. Finally! Something she was trying to teach me, was sinking in.

The all night lectures I'd give myself saying he'll talk to you less if you do it and i can't exchange my fabulous sex talents for free car work anymore if i do it or i'll have to sit in restaurants by myself now, suddenly didn't matter anymore. I was done lecturing myself. I was ready to move on. I wanted more than he was willing to give.

Of course I'll miss him. That's a big fat DUH! But it isn't worth the heartache I get every time he leaves. The fear of eventually he'll stop wanting me was something I couldn't handle anymore. I didn't like wondering if I'd see him again. I wanted reassurance I would, and he couldn't provide that. And won't. And that is MY unfortunate luck.

I don't hold it against him. It's just the way it is. I cannot condemn him for his way of thinking. I'm not like that. But..........I will surely miss him and his fabulous moves self, A LOT!

I think my therapist hates me.

“Unwanted recurring experiences can be burned in the fire of awareness, determination, and optimism.”  -unknown

I am quite certain my therapist hates me. Not like in a “she thinks I’m annoying” kind of way. In an actual “I hate this girl and can’t wait till her 50 minutes are up” kind of way.

When she comes out to get me from the waiting room, she has a fake smile. I know this, because I’ve seen her give a genuine smile to an old man in the waiting room. Her fake smile immediately makes me want to avoid talking. Once in her office, she doesn’t smile. She just stares at me and asks questions. My one word answers aren’t exactly what she’s looking for, so she begins to ask questions at a faster rate. I don’t know what her reason for this is, but she does it. Every time.

Maybe perhaps if she’d give me a genuine smile, I wouldn’t be so apprehensive about talking to her. Maybe if she actually listened to what I was saying, instead of staring at me with empty eyes asking question after question, I would open up and give her honest feedback. It’s been three weeks. I’ve seen her three times.

Today, she got down into my pit. She freakin’ chipped away at it with a hot poker. And she made me cry. I hate her. She made me say things I had never said. Ever. She forced me to have feelings that I always felt were unnecessary to have. And she made me cry more.

Then time was up. Right in the middle of a possible breakthrough. For the first time ever, I felt like I couldn’t leave her office without saying more words to her. I stopped her mid hallway, and broke down.

She saw me for another 50 minutes.

I still hate her.