Now That I'm Forty...


Born in New York and now going to die in New York. Someday.

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Now That I'm Forty...

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Monday, June 27, 2005

Alright, Let's Do This.

I was victimized. I'm a victim.

CUT!
Take Two.

Today it was too hot to go outside and lurk around my Manhattan. I took some time out yesterday to go out, but today, I had no appointments or plans. The elusive kids remain elusive so I have already called their care managers and told them to consider another counselor for their cases.

So I spent the day embroiled in writing a new storyline for a new Dungeons and Dragons game campaign I'm going to run for four friends a' mine. And then I went out to get some Chinese food. And then I went to City of Heroes and fought crime for hours. The sun rose and set behind my blinds today, and here I sat. I called no one. I only have basic cable, so I watched little to nothing (Unless you count that movie Ben Affleck did with Sandra Bullock about a groom-to-be getting caught up in madcap adventures with a free-spirit yet troubled woman).

During these blank-out days, I only feel guilty at the end, not during. During all the escapism, I'm just in the zone. I'm Anyone But Me. Outside of my skin and my life. Where I Wanna Be.

Then the day is gone and I review how I spent my time and I'm angry because I spent another day not dealing. What could I have accomplished today? For instance, why didn't I go to church today? Why didn't I make connections with another real human being today? Why didn't I try to advance my life?

Childhood Friend, I don't know what you meant. It may be that I'm not actually that great of a therapist after all. Should I find a punching bag and scream obscenities at it, and catharse and get past this living death by breaking out of the shell I put myself into? Or the shell that I was put into? Does that really work?

You know what, I just want to be normal now. Okay? Can I just pretend that none of this happened and just go be normal now? Heh. Obviously not, else I'd have done it.

Okay then, can I just be what I am, and stop with the drama? Can I just accept myself? Can I just stop telling myself that I'm doing something wrong everyday of my life?

I think when I'm The Therapist, I get to believe something different than that last statement. That's why I feel so good after a session--someone believes something about me when I'm a therapist, something I don't believe in myself. And this is why I'm so ready to leave the profession when I can't connect with these kids, or a one-time patient doesn't come back to the office. Failure with a client brings me back to the fundamental belief I have about myself--that I'm a failure and good to no one else. I swing between these polar opposites.

heh. That'd make me Bipolar. And judging by the way I live, it'd mean I have a Bipolar Disorder. haha. Something I've so handily diagnosed others with. A disorder.

Currrrrr... and if I really have it, then I should be on medication and off living in a supported housing facility, and be cared for by other people so's I won't go hungry or end up homeless. I should get me a Medicaid # and let the state support me. I should settle for an impaired quality of life and stop telling myself I'm doing badly when what I'm really probably doing is the best that I can.

Bluh.

So I'm making the best choices for me, even though they aren't turning out all that greatly. And perhaps I should try to turn this counseling career into a more scientific research field, and limit myself from seeking approval from clients as a method of self-esteem. It would certainly cut down on the stress. And it would pay a lot more--or at this point, anything.

And what do I need, really? I need enough money in the bank to pay my bills and eat my treats. I need some wiggle room for therapy and relationship experimentation. I need art to feast my eyes on, and music to dance to alone in my apartment and I need my cat, who just doesn't care anything about my self-esteem issues, but always wants to be within an arm's reach of me, and tells me when it's time to be fed and when it's time to be petted, and who, when curled in a big circle, sleeps with so neutral an expression on her face that it's easy to believe that there's at least one creature on the planet who accepts me the way I really am.

I think that's what I need.

Me at 6/27/2005 01:38:00 AM