I swear this is an interesting post. It looks long, but it's not really.
So I saw a new psychiatrist today, and it was one of the best first sessions I've had.
From time to time, when I get manic and decide to actually do something about myself, I find a new therapist, and after the first session people ask me, How did it go?
And usually, it went the same way every other first session has gone -- they asked me why I sought therapy, and I told them.
This guy was different, and I wound up telling him things that nobody had asked about before, and he seemed to get me (not just understand me, but understand how the parts of me interweave).
He told me I have too many sisters and not enough dates.
I say, never argue with anybody telling me I need to get laid.
But I do, I make myself into everybody's Big Brother (hopefully not in the horrible 1984 way), and I never saw that as a negative (on a recent assignment, I had to come up with a positive trait of my own for each letter of the alphabet, and B was Brother).
But it did make sense when he said I seem to spread myself this accross relationships that seem to have little benefit to me (other, that is, than the self-reward of virtue).
A friend came over tonight and we watched Fargo, which I hadn't seen in years, and terrorized the dog of the family I am housesitting for.
The Girl's family.
She left me a voice mail today mentioning that she hasn't heard from me lately and she'd like me to call. I didn't.
I'm not so much getting over her as rather noticing that we haven't been together for a long time, and that I can just live my own damn life, and she can live hers.
See, I've been manic all day. I do positive, productive things when manic.
Today it was brought to the attention of The Group that I am, in fact, homeless and we came up with some ideas. I have decided to look into one of the crazier ideas and buy myself a tent tomorrow.
I will live in this tent for the next two weeks, until I am discharged from the hospital (I am in an "intensive outpatient" program, which is just like being inpatient, except that I don't sleep at the hospital and therefore the insurance company pays less), by which time I should have better plans for a place to live.
I will be among the smaller percentile of homeless which has two cell phones and an iPod and a NintendoDS. And, for that matter, a tent.
I will not be described as homeless, I will be described as outdoorsy.
I bummed a cigarette today, only my second in the past week. I'd really like one now before I go to bed, but I don't feel like eating/drinking/brushing my teeth, and I certainly don't want to go to sleep tasting the cigarette.
Have I mentioned never argue with anybody telling me I need to get laid?
I never argue with anybody telling me I need to get laid.
I need to get laid.
So I saw a new psychiatrist today, and it was one of the best first sessions I've had.
From time to time, when I get manic and decide to actually do something about myself, I find a new therapist, and after the first session people ask me, How did it go?
And usually, it went the same way every other first session has gone -- they asked me why I sought therapy, and I told them.
This guy was different, and I wound up telling him things that nobody had asked about before, and he seemed to get me (not just understand me, but understand how the parts of me interweave).
He told me I have too many sisters and not enough dates.
I say, never argue with anybody telling me I need to get laid.
But I do, I make myself into everybody's Big Brother (hopefully not in the horrible 1984 way), and I never saw that as a negative (on a recent assignment, I had to come up with a positive trait of my own for each letter of the alphabet, and B was Brother).
But it did make sense when he said I seem to spread myself this accross relationships that seem to have little benefit to me (other, that is, than the self-reward of virtue).
A friend came over tonight and we watched Fargo, which I hadn't seen in years, and terrorized the dog of the family I am housesitting for.
The Girl's family.
She left me a voice mail today mentioning that she hasn't heard from me lately and she'd like me to call. I didn't.
I'm not so much getting over her as rather noticing that we haven't been together for a long time, and that I can just live my own damn life, and she can live hers.
See, I've been manic all day. I do positive, productive things when manic.
Today it was brought to the attention of The Group that I am, in fact, homeless and we came up with some ideas. I have decided to look into one of the crazier ideas and buy myself a tent tomorrow.
I will live in this tent for the next two weeks, until I am discharged from the hospital (I am in an "intensive outpatient" program, which is just like being inpatient, except that I don't sleep at the hospital and therefore the insurance company pays less), by which time I should have better plans for a place to live.
I will be among the smaller percentile of homeless which has two cell phones and an iPod and a NintendoDS. And, for that matter, a tent.
I will not be described as homeless, I will be described as outdoorsy.
I bummed a cigarette today, only my second in the past week. I'd really like one now before I go to bed, but I don't feel like eating/drinking/brushing my teeth, and I certainly don't want to go to sleep tasting the cigarette.
Have I mentioned never argue with anybody telling me I need to get laid?
I never argue with anybody telling me I need to get laid.
I need to get laid.