February 24th, 2004


New therapist, new territory

It was an ugly sleep last night, one punctuated with me sitting naked on my couch at 4am eating eight rows of sugar wafers with robotic efficiency. If I had any dreams at all, I’m happy I don’t remember them now. The stress from my job stirred with my first visit to a new therapist yesterday and it had my mind working in the destructive circles that Klonopin usually can erase.

I left work a little early to accommodate my 7pm appointment with a counselor I found in an online search for gay therapists in the area. When I first entered her enclosed porch, I was met with seven leashes hanging from the wall and a cascade of barking behind closed doors. I liked her already. She came out and pointed me toward her downstairs office where I sat, clenched and uncertain. I decided to seek therapy again because I’m not motivated at work – I routinely let details fly by me, I wake every morning dreading the day ahead, and I’ve been unable to impress anyone here with the skills I know I have but are hidden away for reasons I’ve yet to understand.

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