I am clean and my hair is drying in ringlets this morning. Got up and in the shower before my eyes were properly open. It wasn’t a bad way to start the day, and reminded me how I used to live when I worked 9 to 5.
Today’s my last day in my trial shoes. I’m trying to accept that. Hoping I’ll get them back before too long. The impact pain they take away from my feet allows me to walk at a brisk pace, something I’ve not been able to do for years. I’m telling myself it’s okay. My new shoes are coming and coming soon. I’ll be able to do this again. I’ll be able to walk this summer. In the meantime, the occasion seems like it needs to be marked, so I’ve showered and plan to wear my new top and better jeans today. Dress up a bit. Because tomorrow I might not feel like it.
I’m ready for my appointment at the shoe shop. I’ve found the basic shape, the fabrics, the buckles, the heel, the cuff and the toe shape I want for my shoes. I’ll load everything onto a memory stick and take it with me. No idea how this is going to go down. If I can just open up the pictures and explain while the guy takes notes, cool. These babies are custom from the soles on up. I’ve never seen ankle boots like them before, and if I get a unique enough fabric, they’ll be completely one of a kind shoes. Uber, uber cool.
Kiss my so cool heels, baby.
There’s a spew to Coillette sitting in my therapy folder. It’s got many full lines of ‘you bitch, you cunt, fuck off’ etc. so I won’t bore you with the details. Just want it noted that I let myself do it. And once it was done, I was able to let it go for the day.
Did some baking. I’m about to enslave a dojo full of kids to my goodies. lol! Yeah. Had some extra bananas so I’m doing the banana thing again. This time they’re being made to take to my bro’s kickboxing class and give away. The only little sorrow for me is I won’t be there to see everyone enjoy them. That’s always the best part for me – hearing the ‘Mmmmm’ as they bite in and seeing the eye roll of ecstasy as the flavors hit them in just the right way. I once baked my famous triple chocolate cake for some kids who came to the studio to nuts around. I let them loose on it, saying ‘help yourself’. 15 minutes later I went to the kitchen to find HALF the cake gone. And it’s not a small cake! It’s a large round layer with three stacks on top. I expect the Dutch kids will be a bit more sophisticated than THAT particular incident, but I still expect they’ll enjoy the treats.
*sigh* I got the letter done for Heike. Feels like a real anti climax now, over a month since my last appointment. I wonder if she wonders what happened to me. Doubtful. She wasn’t that mindful of me when I saw her every week. I doubt she even realizes I haven’t been back. Out of sight, out of mind.
And that’s HER bad.
It only reflects on her incompetence. Her callousness. It does not reflect on my worth as a person.
I’m worth a call back. I’m worthy of a good therapist. Someone who remembers who I am from one appointment to the next. Someone who listens rather than disses. That’s why she and Addiction Central are getting the letter in the first place – to tell them I’m not happy with them and won’t be returning BECAUSE THEY DONT’ DESERVE TO TALK TO ME. Just needed to remind myself of that.
Talked with my brother about my ‘master plan’. How I want to ride the summer out. Be gentle with myself physically. Keep writing. Keep doing what works for me – walking, swimming, just getting up and getting involved with life again. I don’t need to ride myself about smoking. I’ve found that yes, I can quit if I need to and when I get busy with things outside the house I don’t even miss it. I’ve promised to ‘be mindful’ of my smoking, to try to not just sit at my computer playing games all day long while I smoke one joint after the other. I LIKE doing that. I’ll try NOT to. Come September, I’ll return to my huisarts and ask to be resubmitted to the place my brother’s going. Let’s call that place Head Shrink Central, because it IS the main hub for mental health in NL. While I feel (and my brother feels as well) that I’m doing much better these past few months, I have to admit that my suicide ideations – when they come – are much darker and more extreme than they used to be. That worries me, and it worries my brother. As he said, “I can take your highs. It’s the lows I’m worried about”. Yeah. Me too. I don’t like knowing my brother eyes me up while I’m standing on a train platform, just to make sure I don’t throw myself onto the tracks. It’s stressful for both of us.
So I’ll still seek out help. Medicated help. They can cram talk therapy up their asses. I’m not going to trust anyone soon with that. No, no, no. And if that’s all they offer me, then I’ll go back to managing on my own. With smoke. As much as I want, screw you guys.
That’s not very open of me. And that’s okay, too. I’m doing this my way. Maybe not the way anyone else would like to see me do it, but I’m making progress. And I’m protecting myself, keeping the girl safe while I do it. No fumbling around in my emotions by someone else. No more triggers. Writing here clears my head. Other people’s comments and blogs give me things to think about. If what I seek is my truth, my answer to all the why’s I’ve got, then it’s unique. One of a kind. Like my shoes.