I started seeing a therapist.
Why? I do not really know. A whole lot of reasons, I suppose, most of which I may eventually get around to telling. I guess I should say I do not know the final reason - the proverbial 'last straw' - which drove me to spilling my guts to a total stranger. I know that I was crying a lot. But crying was better than what I felt most of the time; which is to say that I felt nothing most of the time. I guess you could say that I was either crying or I was numb.
Okay, I can hear the questions - what was I crying about. A lot of different things, I suppose, but nothing I really want to talk about just yet. I think I need to work up to that. I would go through the day feeling nothing, for which I was grateful otherwise I could never have made it through the day. At night, I might see something on television that made me sad. I would eventually get all cried out for the night, go to bed, and then start the whole cycle over the next day.
I told my therapist that I wanted to feel like I used to feel, except then I said I was not sure I ever felt happy. My head was so messed up that I could not remember ever feeling anything other than sad. Believe me or not, but it was a really big deal for me to tell my therapist my goal really was to feel like I used to feel. It was like I could not remember there was another me before all this gloom.
Somewhere in all my babbling, I said I used to enjoy blogging. He asked me about that. I said I just wrote about stuff in my life. It is the only lie I have told to him. Kind of lie I guess I should say; I just did not say what kind of stuff it was that I wrote about. I told him I started blogging to help sort some things out and that I found that I really enjoyed it. He encouraged me to start blogging again if I had enjoyed it. Of course, it is not like he said it and then I immediately started writing. At first I said "no". I kept telling my own self "no", but of course I was secretly writing posts in my head. I guess they really weren't a secret to me, since it was my head, but as I was not actually writing them down, then they did not count. I decided finally to make a few draft posts then, only the realize I had lost my password to my blog (damned laptop with all my passwords had crashed). Multiple attempts later, I finally found Rachel again. Well, I should say I found the blog Rachel again . . .
. . . finding the person Rachel is still a work in progress.
