This is where it starts. I have a drive to write my story. I will use this platform to practice my craft, to work through some things and then, eventually, to finally complete my final project.
Where to begin. I wrote my letter. It was messy and confusing. I feel like the words "messy" and "confusing" sum up every single area in my life at the moment. This process is neither linear or easy. I'm having flashbacks and intrusions of some of the saddest moments of my life. My dogs. I don't understand why they keep coming up or what I'm supposed to do to process them. Do they play a part in the person I am today? I guess it makes sense. I don't know.
This Wasn't the Place for Cockroaches
She placed the pint on the coaster in front of him. "Another hot date, huh?" she asked with a grin as he finished scribbling a note in his little black book. He smiled and nodded his head.
My poor therapist. Today's session was nearly a straight hour of tears. I began by talking about my apparent inability to keep a relationship. Have a relationship? Be one of two people within a relationship? I don't know. But the overall topic was wondering if I may, in fact, be alone for the rest of my life.
I started therapy. Again. I had a plan. I started searching for a therapist because I already knew that I was going to need one. I was going to be on the ball, ahead of the game, keeping the world on its toes. Being the type of person that does most things on a whim, this was a pretty big deal in my world. I have a goal. A goal to write a book that has been in the making for more than 10 years. Much of the foundation is already written. I have been holding on to it for years. The problem, however, is that much of what I wrote so many years ago is all but forgotten. I know the main points...but the details have faded. I am very aware that as this process starts it is going to bring up some dark thoughts and feelings of hurt and anger. My past attempts of starting this process, I wound up far too afraid to face my past self and put it back into the dusty old box it had been stored in. I don't think I was far enough removed from that version of myself to actually take a look back at her and feel safe. And now here I sit. I do not want to put it off any longer. There has to be a reason that I cannot stop thinking about getting it done, and until I do it, I will never know.
This Wasn’t Cupid
The assignment is to create an anti-Valentine’s playlist. Perhaps if I had ever created a pro-Valentine’s day playlist, this would feel easier to achieve. My history with this romantic day have more often than not included my single self, serial killer documentaries, lots of snacks and often a bottle of wine (you know…for romance). In between these I have one year that included a first date where I took a rough tumble on the ski hill. I spent most of the day in the chalet drinking vodka cocktails and proceeded to continue on with normal life for 3 days before ending up in the emergency room with a broken arm. I really should have understood the universe was sending me a message…but it sounded more like a “memorable first date story”. Oops. Then there was the year I got stood up. It wound up being a fun time with a group seated next to me that eventually realized no one would be joining me at the table. And then along came 2010. A year that also produced an album that will forever be known as the soundtrack to that insane chapter of my life.