Sometimes when I go to see my therapist we talk about something other than me or my family or my problems. I don’t know whether that’s because he’s just pleasant and interesting to talk to or because I need a break from the inside of my own head.
Last week, we talked about how my older daughter wants to get a pistol for personal security (she works nights, and there has been some violence in her city) and how my younger daughter’s leanings toward an Army career might make this summer a good time to sign them up for lessons and certification. He recommended an inexpensive but good-quality pistol for each of them. I thought it might be fun for us all three to take lessons.
I wonder if I will do any of that. But it was pleasant to talk about the possibilities.
Maybe I don’t do enough non-work conversations in my life. It was nice.
I’m not sure what I want out of therapy except to get rid of the sense of dread and yearning and unhappiness with myself that I feel. The feeling that I’ve fucked my life and I’m 56 and there are only so many years left before I’m sitting in a nursing home, doing find-the-word puzzles and waiting to die.
(Bleak, much? Lol.) Even in my dreams, I think about what I’d like to be and do — what I am not and what I don’t do.
Things I think I should talk about, but don’t
- Why I feel like I get a C grade on my life.
- Why I so often dream about driving an 18-wheeler from the back seat, going fast down a curvy, busy highway, with my vision of the road partially obscured, praying to God that I don’t kill somebody who’s unlucky enough to be in my way. The brakes don’t work, either. Or if they do, they only work for a few minutes before they let go and the truck starts rolling slowly down hil again.
- Why I feel I’ve reached the “lemon” grade with my body. You know how it is with an old car, when you look at the Blue Book value and the long list of things that need to be fixed and the equally long list of things you’d just like to fix — and you think, “Fuck this. I need a new car.” I hope reincarnation is a real thing, but I kind of doubt it.
- How grateful my husband is that I suggested he get checked out for a low testosterone level, and he did and it really was low, and how he feels more energetic now and even sports the occasional morning wood. And how that hasn’t impacted our love life at ALL.
- Why my stomach hurts with IBS all the time, but especially at nights and on weekends when I’m home. Is it purely physical, because I lie down too much at home? Or because I am conflicted still about our marriage?
This one isn’t going to wrap up neatly in a bow, with a pithy summary comment. I feel at a loss tonight. Anyone else identify with this?