Progress... slow, but progress. in Random Thoughts

  • Oct. 1, 2020, 12:02 a.m.
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I had one of those e visit things with my psychiatrist today. Boy, that felt weird all the way through. I’m used to going in and sitting in her office, not sitting on my couch. It was kinda like she made a house call. That’s not all horrible, but I’m already weird about people coming to my house. It’s not a massive thing, but it’s just one of those weird things. I did finally tell her clearly about how the faking smiles has become habitual, versus just making it a comment. I’ve been making my dissatisfaction with things… with life… more clearly understood lately. I had a particularly bad day last week, and confided to K, our scheduler, what was really going on. So I guess my talking about things more is progress.

I ended up sending an apology to S. I don’t want anything from her, I’m not interested in repeating history. We talked, and I ended up going out at 9 at night to drive 20 minutes to see her. It was mainly to see if anything’s changed with her. It hasn’t. She’s still getting herself in over her head, the conversation proved that. It also proved that it’s all about her. She’s looking for someone to bitch about all her problems to. Yes, I know I could find that out in a phone call, or a text message, but I wouldn’t find out as quickly. No, I wanted to look her in the eye as she spoke, and make sure I wasn’t getting it wrong. I’m going to continue to be her friend, but I’m going to be keeping her at arms length this time. I might meet her out somewhere, but I’m not going to her place, and she’s not coming to mine. I don’t remember if I ever talked about this before, but she and I did date a few years ago. It didn’t last long. She didn’t want to be “unevenly yoked” and said that she was “getting screamed at” by some voice internally, same screaming at she got when she found out she was pregnant when she really didn’t want to be, by someone she didn’t want to be pregnant by. She obviously regrets that decision, so yeah. I won’t risk letting myself get into a position to fall for her again.

I’m not at risk of falling for anyone at the moment, but that’s another whine for another time.

The shipping container I bought in February to pack and move was sold and hauled off last week. I’m annoyed, but not much I can do at this point. It got the city off my ass. Now I have to back up and punt how I’m going to move. The beauty of that box was that I was going to be able to make the move in one trip. I’m getting close to being able to buy the enclosed car trailer which was the second half of the move. That may still happen, but I gotta figure out the bigger part of the move.

I’m getting an earlier start this year on winterizing my yard. I let the grass get too tall, then the rain started, and I couldn’t mow again until early spring - at which point the grass was about 4 feet tall. That was fun. I’ve gotten it mowed down over the last two evenings, now I’ve just gotta get the de-weeding and fertilizing done, as well as the moss treatment done. If you’re not in for from the Pacific Northwest, because of how long it stays wet here and limited sun, we have moss issues. Mostly it grows in our yards and on our shingle and shake roofs. If you have a metal roof, you have nothing to worry about. I have a lot of spots in my yard that get moss, as well as the back half of the garage roof. That’s why we have Moss Out. I’ll be glad to not have this issue anymore.

That dream with BL royally messed with me today. For one, I couldn’t stop thinking about her, but secondly, it really made me feel very alone. It wasn’t a bad dream, but it wasn’t one of those euphorically good dreams like I’ve had about her before either.

I’m going to start on my “dream girl / build a b***h workshop” entry soon. My thoughts on that are slowly coming more into focus. Not that writing it or posting it is ever going to do me any kind of good in any way, but at least it’ll be written. Another thing done with, I guess.

Just once, I want to have that mutual fall in love moment of clarity. Cest la vie.
This is not my life.

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