...Because although I DID (yay!) make the entire bike ride without stopping or giving into the urge to get a free ride home by swerving in front of a car (or that tractor that I had to pass), I can no longer get off the couch. I have also no ability to drag myself around using my arms since the 'training' for the push-up portion of my physical testing has pulled every muscle along my entire rib cage. And so I am going to stop uploading photos (which are now hidden until I can arrange 'em all), plug in
Blade III set it to repeat and not get up until tomorrow morning.
When I shall try to do it again.
In the meantime....
By the time I managed to repress my ex-boyfriend, I was half way to the subway station, sweating and rather shaky and I thought, well, should I go to therapy? Am I repressing lots of stuff? Of course I fucking am. No prizes for figuring that out. Am I going fucking mad, at last? It's been a rough couple of weeks for me, for various reasons. Maybe finally, I've reached breaking point. I've repressed too much. I'm going to burst in some horrible way. Mentally only, I hope. Physical bursting would be messy and painful and grim.
But then I remembered the couple of times I have dabbled in therapy. It usually comprised of me sitting remembering miserable things that had happened to me for an hour a week and receiving 'explanations' of stuff I'd already figured out, that made absolutely no dent in the mountain of misery that engulfed me. Analysis is one thing I'm actually good at. I can make sense of it all now. I just can't change what happened, and I never seemed to get any more cheerful about it all. Talking about it didn't actually make it any better. I've been talking about it for years. And I'm still a miserable bastard.
When my mother was dying, I went to see a very wise counsellor indeed, called Angela. She told me you don't have to spend all your time obssessing on the bad stuff that happened to you. You can just decide to let it go. Forgive it and dump it like a heavy lump of bricks you've been carrying around with you everywhere unnecessarily. So I did. And it felt much better. It took a bit of work over the years, but I figured I'd made some progress getting on with my life. I'm miserable, sure, but I'm functional.
come have a drink, with the thirsty love guzzler
from the darkside, baby, don't be afraid
you can't fight the thirst, nor escape the Blade
Article originally appeared on if you're not a penguin...shut it (http://www.airbornepathojen.com/).
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