hiatus

im on a therapy hiatus until the 26th of august. im gonna use this time to fully take advantage of the last summer of my life. i have a sense of impending doom because as august draws to an end, i need to enter the workforce. which isnt that bad. im looking forward to having some sort of purpose in the world and something to do everyday, but having a job + responsibilities + financial independence + decision making= being a grown up =

this week, my therapist said something like, it seems you want to hold on to the magic of being a child. DUH! being a child is the best! kids rule!

story time

i dont know why i didnt write a post last week. i tried to! i started writing on a few occasions but realized i dont really know what to write so i stopped and deleted whatever i had written because it seemed dumb after awhile. i never know what to talk about or write anymore, especially knowing someones actually out there and listening. it makes it a lot more difficult for me to feel secure and validate my thoughts before expressing them.

last week, we talked about the silence because there was a lot of it. we decided that we were exchanging stories this week; i told her about “The Man Who Mistook His Wife For a Hat” this clinical story by a neurologist, Oliver Sacks, about a man with visual agnosia and she read me “The Girl Without Hands.” i dont really feel like writing about what we talked about the stories.. umm, im a visual person and pears are delicious, whatever.

she asked me how i wanted to acheive what i wanted through psychotherapy. this part of the session resonated the most with me because dude, i dont know. its pretty much impossible for me to completely let my guard down and tell Anyone about my deep dark thoughts. how do you get to that point with someone where you just trust them to listen to everything and anything you have to say? im way too guarded for that. i dont even know what most of my thoughts are because i spend so much time repressing them. im more comfortable and safe being superficial. i guess its sort of like a cut, a superficial wound doesnt hurt so much and you walk away pretty much unscathed but the deeper the wound, it hurts more and takes longer to heal; plus, it could get infected and you have to apply and reapply neosporin and mederma to prevent scarring.. wait, what was i talking about?

burnt like toast

so going to therapy on a ridiculously hot humid day after smoking is a bad idea. i was really exhausted and burnt and didnt even feel like talking. so i didnt! it was a pretty quiet session, i cant even think of a single thing we talked about that i think is worth writing about.

oh, my therapist has an accent??!! why didnt i know about this?? there’s something wrong with me and my ears, maybe i watch too much tv but i cant pick up on accents until its really thick or im expecting it. we were talking about how i ask her questions she never answers and how im not really supposed to know anything about her. which is fine with me, i like not knowing, i almost prefer it. she asked me if i wonder about her and where her accent is from, to which i responded with, “holy shit! you have an accent?!” how did i not pick up on that?! apparently, she’s somewhere from europe, which im not supposed to know but im fucking sneaky.

after our session, i started walking east but realized i was gonna head home to brooklyn so i backtracked to take the F downtown. as i was walking back, my therapist was leaving the psychoanalysis center so i was walking a couple of feet behind her for 3 blocks. that was weird. seeing my therapist outside the therapy room, like a real person. i almost wanted to change my route but i just walked really slow until i lost sight of her. thank god she didnt see me, that wouldve been even weirder and i wouldve been super awkward.

filling in the gaps

i thought i would have a lot to say this week because i went to tony’s 4th annual birthday bbq in heaven last sunday, quit smoking and moved out of my apartment and was surprisingly sad about it my first night in the new place. WRONG. i had very little to say and ended up sitting in silence most of the time until the end when i started babbling about weirdos, lion fish and angler fish. i always end up not talking about or only briefly mention the things that i think seem important and ramble on about things that aren’t, or at least don’t seem to be. but apparently, this is what psychoanalysis is all about- crazy rambles.

the more i try to understand myself and why i am the way i am and do the things i do, the more confused i get and the weirder i feel. for some reason, i feel like i’m lying a lot even though i’m pretty sure i’m not, like sometimes my perception is SO different from yours that what feels real to me, isn’t. like last week, my roommate kept insisting that this rug that we had was navy blue even though it looked completely brown to me. she made me feel like i was going crazy bananas! it was so frustrating and unsettling knowing that what i see, plain and simple in front of me, that is rug is brown, isn’t. i think i get different degrees of that same feeling when trying to figure out what’s going on with me. that plus the fact i feel really narcissistic during those sessions and these blogs makes me feel like a crazy self-involved asshole. i made some dumb joke about how the narcissism might make me drown and she laughed.. i like when people think im funny.