I wanted to do a piece on Ted, my old therapist today, but it's coming out like trying to eat jello with chopsticks, so I have put it on the back burner for another day.
Sometimes poems take a lifetime to write. Indeed, I have been working on some poems for that long, and some I will never finish. I will just put them down on paper at some point, interrupting their poem lives, and those who read them will think they are finished, when they are not.
It is 4 o'clock in the morning...one of my favorite times of day. It's cool and quiet outside and a blue moon is promised for tonight. The cats are excited. Prime unicorn hunting during a blue moon.
My therapist is moving to a new office, to the business owned by my psychiatrist, actually. While I am ecstatic for my therapist, yesterday officially SUCKED. I don't know, with all the financial arrangements, if I will be able to continue seeing him. My response to the news was to go to an AA meeting and eat a pint of ice cream.
But first, I called my psychiatrist's office to MAKE it happen. If he could somehow order my therapist to see me. I mean, let's get real. I have sunk a fortune into my psychiatrist, and deserve some consideration for being one of his most loyal nutjobs. I found out it doesn't work that way.
Then, I called my therapist to MAKE it happen. When he had already told me he wouldn't know until Tuesday. It will break my heart if I have to lose him. I just can't do it. Breaking them in is so hard. You have to teach yourself to trust them, which is hard enough. But first, you have to find out if they are trustworthy, which is what I suck at.
With my disorders, particularly the Borderline Personality disorder, you have a hard time trusting anyone. Then, when you do, you are almost always wrong. But since you are going to f**k up the relationship anyway...catch my drift?
But my therapist was personally vetted and endorsed by a friend who also has BPD, so he started with a leg up on that one. It was a cinch win for me. I couldn't lose. Until now. So I have gone into disaster preparedness mode, and ate an entire pint of ice cream last night. It's better than drinking, but that's beside the point. All I can do now is hold on until Tuesday and try not to eat too much until then. It's a good thing I'm broke and fudge is so expensive.