Today, I am going to visit my counsellor for the first time. All I know is that her name is Elizabeth and my mom likes her. My mom has referred everyone she knows there including my ex- (and current…) boyfriend, and my childhood best friend.
I feel like I’m going in for an interview. I feel like I need todo my hair and make up, put on some fabity fab clothes, and give the message, “no, really, I’m not a fuckup. This is all a misunderstanding.”
I made the comment to a friend of feeling like, “I’m going there to get judged.” She laughed, and said, “well, aren’t you? I mean, your going and saying, ‘all this shit is wrong with me and you tell me how to deal with it…” although you had to be there to see the hand gestures she made. Hilarious.
How the hell do you begin? “So, I’m Audrey and I’m here because I’m sad all the time and can’t stop crying?” … *re-adjust pose in the mirror and say cheerfully* “Hey Sup, I’m Audrey… *re-adjust, le sighe” Hi, My name is Audrey and you know my mom…”
Bingo. So we’ve figured out the greeting but what of relaying the actual message of being a screwed up mind at its greatest?
I give up and I’m letting the chips fall where they may.
Blah. I don’t want to go. I’m obviously very worked up about it since I’ve been awake since 6:30, chatting about this exact prediciment to my stuffed shark in bed.
Tell you how it goes…