i lost yesterday…

…i’m not exactly sure where it went, but, it most assuredly escaped me…leaving me with only bits and pieces.

i remember walking buggs three times before i left for therapy and that he ran to my bedroom window to watch me leave and wave, by pawing at the glass.

i got on the freeway and was enjoying a “cool” desert day of only 98°. i had my windows down and the wind was how i like it, whipping through my hair.

suddenly, lights in front of me and a “parking lot,” as far as the eye could see. i was crawling at best and had to put my beloved open windows up.

i arrived at therapy with the same sinking feeling that i’ve been getting for months. i don’t know why i go back…as lately she’s done more harm, than good.

she always takes me ten minutes late and takes another ten minutes to locate my file. then, she takes another ten minutes to find her last session note.

in the meantime, she’s asked me to fill her in on what i’ve been doing/feeling since last time. and, i’m mad but i do it…i know that she’s not listening.

and at this point, she’s just trying to make me quit, because it’s increasingly obvious to me that she just doesn’t give a shit. i’m just “dead weight” now.

in fact, she goes out of her way to tell me about her weekend of binging on netflix and how much she really hated how something was portrayed.

again, i’ve come full circle. therapist-new. therapist-good. therapist-helpful. therapist-plateau. therapist-bad. therapist-begins-telling-me-problems.

this is not the first time that this has happened to me. i had one therapist tell me that she was a shoplifter. this one tells me she dissociates while driving.

at any rate, she asked me about my writing and i began laughing. she had a quizzical look on her face, so, i reminded her the best that i could.

i had to refrain from nastiness, anger, or snarkiness. so, i asked her a question back. “how do you think my writing is going?” she didn’t respond well to that.

i elaborated, “since you told me that i ‘say’ weird things…i’m nearly paralyzed by fear to try to write anything important to anyone important.”

she looked at me with mouth a gape and shot me an incredulous look. she immediately began debating me. telling me that she never said those words.

this is not the first time that she has said something to me and then absolutely denied saying it later, instead choosing to blame it on my memory.

she knows that by blaming it on my memory that, that’s akin to my mom blaming my memories of events on my “perceptions being off.”

she knows my trigger and she knows how to exploit it to take herself off of “the hook.” it’s enough to send my mind racing for evidence to the contrary.

the damage had been done. she accomplished her goal. i’d be rendered useless and with only little bits of information, for the rest of the day.

so, what ended up happening was me suddenly feeling trapped in slow motion and honey, listening to her voice, while feeling my eyes roll back into my head.

i felt myself struggle back and forth between consciousness and unconsciousness-her voice/my voice/her voice/my voice. it was a struggle.

but, my voice was calm and soothing. it said really nice, reassuring things to me. it gave me permission to rest…to take my immediate leave of the situation.

so, hee-hee, i “left” the situation, without ever leaving. she has provoked this response several times from my mind and body over the last few months.

i heard her say that it was time and i got up and left. i got in my car and headed for the uber greenlight hub. i arrived checked in, sat down, and heard a noise.

i realized that it was coming from me. i was snoring. i looked around to see if anyone was looking at me, but i was all alone. i got called right after that.

i hadn’t eaten, all i had with me were soda crackers, which i’m not supposed to have, but when i’m nauseous they help…i put one in my mouth.

no sooner was it in, then out it flew. something, or rather someone jarred me, scaring the cracker out of me. i looked and saw a very angry woman.

she was gesticulating ferociously. i rolled down my window to try to ascertain what was wrong and why she hit my car with her fist. she kept on.

apparently, she had been signing fast and ferociously to her friend across the parking lot and my backing out blocked her message and she got mad.

she was so mad that she hit my car, but later began laughing at me, in my confusion over what had really happened. she was one amused woman.

i left unnerved, but turned one of my delivery apps on and immediately got a call. i was ordering, picking up, and delivering wings from the wing stop.

i did that and then noticed how incredibly sleepy i was. i turned off my app and headed back to henderson. on my way back, i felt even sleepier.

i pulled into a strip mall and took a catnap. when i opened my eyes, i thought that i was seeing things, so, i rubbed them really vigorously.

i stopped and looked again, and sure enough…i was making eye contact with an african american man’s genitals through my windshield.

he was in all of his glory, standing in front of my car. he was wearing pants around his lower thighs and absolutely no undies, straight commando.

i grabbed my phone to take a photo, but he fled quickly. i drove the few blocks back to the apartment. i parked, but fell asleep before i could even get out.

i awoke sweating. what had been 98°, had turned into 106°, with 41% humidity. i walked back to the apartment, only to be met with r*****d.

and along with r*****d, comes all of r*****d’s shit. meant to oppress and hold one’s spirit down, because his is itself oppressed and black, as coal.

you see, when i’m working to try to improve myself and attain my goal to go home on my terms, triumphantly…he is alone…oh the girls are there!

but, they do not sit with him. that is my other job. i’m the babysitter. and, as you can imagine, when the baby is alone all damn day. the baby punishes all night.

because, that old adage is absolutely true. the one about misery loving company. my miserable baby demands my company and is not one bit grateful.

because, i want and choose to work, over spend time with him…how dare i??? you fucking bet, he’s going to show me his motherfucking displeasure.

first, he started by ignoring me. which i loved. and then, he began hurling insults at me, as i ate cheese. he told me to give buggs some and i said, “no.”

at which point, he called me a fucking moron, until w***y came out and made him stop. w***y gave me a brand new jar of peanuts. i sat down with my baby.

my infantile one makes it really hard for me to leave the house and want to improve in anyway. you see he’s quite content for me to sit and be unhappy.

he doesn’t want me to improve, to exercise, to have my own car, to work, to have friends outside of this apartment, etc.

because, he knows that if i get enough positive reinforcement, enough self-respect, enough freedom, enough options, and enough money…i’m gone.

and, he is absolutely right! but, the flip side to that coin is that with each, “fucking moron” or it’s equivalent…he’s speeding up my escape exponentially.

in fact, there are days when camping at battleground lake in a tent with buggs at night and driving for uber and lyft in portland during the day, sound idyllic.

i just gave myself the perfect plan! i’m going to start buying myself some camping equipment. and then, i can go home and work my plan from there.

anyway, i digress. my body has been physically hurting and i’ve been more tired since beginning my second phase, i believe that, that’s understandable.

i can tell when i’m not functioning well, or as i should, but some people just don’t seem to see or notice, until it becomes, too uncomfortable to them.

at some point, i must’ve opened up that brand new jar of peanuts, and began eating them. i don’t remember. i just remember hearing my name called.

i jumped up and when i did, peanuts began spilling across the floor. immediately, there was a finger in my face pointing and boisterous laughter.

i wasn’t sure how the peanuts ended up where they did, but the pointing and laughing, soon coupled with, “fucking moron,” and that enraged me.

i grabbed the broom and dustpan with such fervor, that he looked at me nervously, but only after he saw me begin to sweep, did he began to scream.

scream what? oh, the patented shriek of a miserable, old baby of course. it was loud and shrill and elongated, “ellllllldddddddderrr aabbbuuuuuuse!”

w***y had been calling my name for dinner. i finally made it to the table. i remember eating cottage cheese and some kind of beans, but felt sleepy.

i propped my head up and stared at a bratwurst sausage. i felt buggs jump up trying to get it. someone asked me if i was okay. i said, “why wouldn’t i be?”

and i heard, “because your face just fell into your plate.” and so, i opened up my eyes and sure enough, my cheek was resting on a mustard covered bratwurst.

i picked it up and ate it with my fingers, just to be done. of course, buggs wanted some, but i don’t want my dog being fed people food and being a beggar-too late!

i washed my dishes and went into my bedroom. i was going to lie down, but decided that since i was away from r*****d, i should use my time to blog.

so, i sat down at my desk and proceeded to play the drop phone/pick up phone game about ten times before picking myself up and putting myself in bed.

i did so with my headphones on, so that i could listen to my day four meditation. all i remember about it was oprah saying, “now here’s deepak…”

my eyes popped open promptly at 0830. where i proceeded to spend about thirty minutes trying to figure out what happened yesterday and why.

my theory is that the weather coupled with increased work and exercise have made me sweat more. yesterday, i was so sleepy that i forgot to drink water.

i think that my therapist started the ball rolling, by triggering me to “leave” the bad situation and i think that my body and mind liked that relaxed sleepiness.

and, continued to “opt out,” at every opportunity…i guess that i have just worn them both completely out. so today, j**s told me that i could rest. i am.

ps…i just caught my reflection in the bathroom mirror and saw a weird crust over the top of my right eyebrow. it was mustard remnants from dinner.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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