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residual therapy.

June 30, 2013

I think I’ve done it.  I’ve waited the exact amount of time I could go without writing that everyone has stopped looking for it.  No one remembers this space in the inter-webs exists.  Also everyone stopped reading personal blogs in the amount of time that I stopped caring to write one.  Only the best writers remain and only the most loyal readers still read.  I am and have neither.  Therefore I may officially begin writing again.

I’m not even sure what I will say.  Now that I know for certain no one will see it, I think I can say and do just about anything.  I can prose poetic.  Or be dry and sarcastic (my specialty).  Overly sentimental (my fallback).  Or make a list of the reasons why, as I get older, I only seem to become more confused about who I am, rather than wiser and more in touch.

Mentioning that last point, let me just begin by saying, I have just recently finished my first ever season of therapy.  See, two years ago I probably wouldn’t have admitted that, but there it is…  I’m bat crap crazy and now that I’m writing to no one, it’s safe to finally say it out loud.

Yes, I have deep seeded issues.  From childhood.  From marriage.  From motherhood.  From faith.  Or a lack thereof.  From a career.  From loneliness.  From an unnecessary need to “do”.  From a million little things, that when standing in solitude don’t add up to much.  Whip them all together and what do you get?

Head-case.  Certified.  Grade A.  FDA approved.  Head-case.

Therapy helped me dig around, look at it from all different angles and decide on a lot of root causes, and I feel better.  Lighter.  But the truth of all those factors are still reigning true, and the brain that has to calculate and divide the pieces of me that I’m allowed to allocate to those things… is still frying as we speak.

Therefore, I stand before you a fizzled woman.  A woman who really thinks she was called to more than an emotional grease fire.  I have a desire to believe I am capable of more.  Of feeling better.  Of choosing better.

But I hear that’s a process.  Writing has always been a healthy process for me.  Almost always made healthier when I know no one is looking.  However, it’s good for me to share.  I’m inherently a non sharer when it makes me look weak.  So this is a small step in both directions.  Writing what’s real and sharing it honestly.

But maybe only to people who trip over me with an incorrect Google search.

Hi. Welcome.  You searched for “flashing subway freak” and for some under known reason, Google brought you here.  You are in good company.  Obviously we both need help.  This is my residual therapy.  You are welcome to come along for the ride.

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