She said she thinks I’m a firecracker. If she only knew. I’m talking about my shrink, of course.

This was after she asked me what I wanted to do with my life and I communicated it quite clearly. Sure, lady, I have an idea and zero clues how to make it happen.

This clinic works on a 45 minute hour, and I suppose it would feel more helpful if I went more than once every two weeks. I do really like her, though.

This time, I was a little more down than I was last time. I guess I’m trying to decide if I’m doing that thing I always do… Usually, I act like I’m in better shape than I actually am so the therapist ends up wondering why I’m even there. It was my brilliant idea to go there, so why would I want to talk myself out of needing help?

I feel like this is going to be a slow process for a while. That’s okay, I suppose. I have time.

Later in the evening, I went to dinner with a friend. It’s amazing I even made it out of the house. This was supposed to happen last week, but my dog was sick, so I wanted to keep close to her in case I needed to take her to the emergency vet. I feel like I might have found another excuse to reschedule just because I’m so out of the loop and out of practice with the whole “going out” process that the thought of socializing gives me anxiety. Add to the mix that this isn’t a friend I see very often, and it’s the first time we’ve hung out without the rest of our mutual friends being there, and there’s a recipe for me to sit there looking like a deer in headlights.

Let’s just say I’m a teensy bit of an awkward person. Well… I guess that’s what pina coladas are for. It does make one wonder, though, when and why this shit started happening. I’ve never been a particularly awkward person before. I’m not the best with small talk, but, hey, I probably wouldn’t be hanging out with this friend if I felt like that was an expectation.

“Let’s talk about the weather.”
“Let me choke you with this bowl of tortilla chips.”

I have a few friends coming over on Tuesday for my birthday. That felt like the right thing to do. I think I might make a cake, too. I want a damn cake, and I don’t want anyone to go buy me one because, unless it’s NY style cheesecake from Giant Eagle, it will be wrong, and I rang in my birthday last year with cheesecake, and, while it was wonderful, I really just want some regular, normal cake.

So, I’m basically just rambling on now trying to take up time at work. It’s slow here. I’d better stop rambling, though. Along with small talk, that’s another thing I’m not especially fond of.

Til we meet again.