Sleep the Clock Around

Good things are like a drug. So are cruel things. I think sometimes I'm just chasing feelings. If it elicits an emotion I want it inside me.

Except I guess I've gotten burnt out on a few highs. This new one has a rough come-down. This post therapy fatigue isn't something I was expecting. Everything was great and then my head was pounding and I was irritable and I said things that made people say things and now I'm just down. Just down.

I need new friends. Not that there is anything in particular wrong with my old ones- but I need something else. I want something else, anyway. Something more invested.

Myex once said that people got tired of him because he was a really needy friend. He really wanted to share and be open and touchy-feely. He'd invest a lot into one person and it became overwhelming. Of course, even when I was that one person I wasn't the only one- but I think I kind of understand the concept better now. I can see how I would be overwhelming for the people in my life. I exhaust myself...but I should probably try harder to be self-contained. Self-sustaining.

I don't think I adequately related this to my therapist. I'm a little worried now that she's going to get sick of me when she knows. I think right now she has a fairly optimistic view of who I am and how she can help. Right now I'm just a poor girl struggling to be better. Who has had a hard time but made it through quite a few obstacles. I'm not the disastrous garbage person who tries to drain the life out of people to prove she has meaning. Lies of omission I suppose.

I'm supposed to get adult coloring books. And hold on to ice when I feel like hurting myself or pulling out my hair. I'll have to buy and ice cube tray. I'm not sure about the coloring books. Those still seem hokey, regardless of how much I loved this new green-gingham-pants sporting therapist.

I see her again next Tuesday but I'm so sad now. Can a therapist be your friend? That's so much sadder, isn't it? At the end of the day, we're not good...and I should create some distance. I have never had trouble closing people out before. I don't think I realized in the session that I wasn't being honest. Not until I mentioned that there were large periods of time I don't remember. Years I know I was probably toxic in. An era that would probably be hard to forget if you were witnessing it instead of living it through my drunken, drugged, broken head. I'm sure the undiluted memories of that time are more than enough to warrant calling me toxic. I had a hard time explaining this. I pleaded meekly that I was trying to do better, be better, to change and not hurt other people just because I was miserable...but that's probably not true either.

I have a lot of regrets, and new ones forming by the second, it's the one drug I can't seem to quit.

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