get back into therapy

Yep, it’s done. Just a matter of getting off my bee-hind and doing it.

Called my old therapist, and was amused to hear that the voicemail message had not changed (since 2001!)

She’ll call me back and we’ll get this going, or I’ll get referred. Once I’ve got an actual appointment, I can mark this one DONE.

I love my family, and I love my work, but I’m really ragged, and I’m really pretty wrecked. It’s time to get my butt back into therapy.

Yes, it’s expensive. But a meltdown is a lot more expensive. So THIS WEEK I’m going to phone my old therapist, and see about getting on her calendar.

Oh, golly, I don’t want to do this… but it is time.

I’ve had some very helpful, even life-changing, therapy and feel like I need some more sessions to deal with my recent breakup.

(Crossposted to my journal and 43 Things)

I’m carrying around a hell of a lot of animosity towards the ex right now. (The latest flash expression of this – I wouldn’t call it a daydream, per se, but it’s close – was an image of myself lying on the playa screaming at him that I would bleed to fucking death before I accepted help from him again.) It doesn’t help that he’s ignoring me. And it’s not like I’m emailing him every day, whining “I love you, I miss you, I’m crying big emo tears because you’re not here” – I’m talking about simple things, like asking a question about something he posted in his journal. (And I’ve had more than one person ask why I don’t just stop reading his journal…but the thought of cutting him out of my life still hurts more than the prospect of him cutting me out of his.)

I need outside help to process this, I’m almost certain. And there’s plenty of other crap in my life that would benefit from the input of a neutral party, as well.

Of course, how I’m going to afford pshrinkage when I can’t pay the rent is another matter, but hey – I’m eating this elephant one bite at a time.