I was looking over my posts from the last few months and realized that I need to take it down a couple of notches before I start believing my own hype... my head is already too big to wear cool hats, I don't want it so big I can't get into the room!
I'm letting comments and compliments on this blog turn me into some Martin Lawrence-type slapstick comedian, and that's so not cute. What it is, actually, is a recipe for disaster and "cancellation."
So lets everybody take a deep breath and get back to business as usual, okay?
Lily Allen - Friend of Mine
(I love it when the British make reggae songs... it's like a guilty pleasure)
Sooooo, tonight I have my second shrink appointment. Last week when she squeezed me in for the emergency Monday night session, she said she would continue to see me ONLY if I agreed to actually open up about the things that were bothering me, because that's the only way she'd be able to help me get out from under this cloud.
DAMMIT, WOMAN! Can't you see that is the very core of what's wrong with me? Where did you go to school again???? I mean really- what's a girl gotta do around here to get some understanding?!?!
And she's Latina, too, so I know she knows how "we" are. I honestly think if my family knew I was in therapy they'd be whispering about me so loudly that I could hear it from the floor in my bathroom in Greenwood.
Maybe I can spell it out: I DON'T KNOW HOW TO OPEN UP! I was always taught to keep house business in the house and to deal with shit on my own because in the end we all die alone (nice thing to tell a kid, right?!) and that crying was for weak little babies.
(Although it taught me how to take care of myself and shield myself from the world and be able to survive.)
And let's not even get into the barrels and barrels of SHAME the Catholic Church has had delivered to my house from 1980 until this very day; I can't seem to shake them fools no matter how many one night stands I have or heart-stopping drugs I take. Because Catholicism is a disease in my soul so advanced that cancer looks at it and gets shook!
But guess who's tired of feeling bad?
Of just surviving?
Guess who's tired cracking jokes all the live long day like some fucking Sambo, instead of dealing with the realness?
Guess who's tired of crying on the inside?
Raquel. Not "The Jaded NYer" not "The Voices" but RAQUEL!!!
I don't know... maybe I'll give her a little bit. Maybe I'll talk about my indifference towards men and how it ruins every and any potential relationship that comes my way before it even starts. Maybe I'll talk about the sadness that still surrounds me whenever I think about Grandma, even though she passed away so long ago. Or maybe I'll clue her into the fact that my horribly horrific financial decisions have crippled me to the point where I've painted myself into a proverbial corner with paint that's taking a really, really long time to dry.
I'll tell you what, though-- I'm definitely NOT touching upon my relationship with Mami, even though I'm sure that's the key to it all, because I'm not ready to open that can of worms yet. I have to take baby steps or I might explode all over her office, and I'm pretty sure my co-pay won't cover the cleaning crew.
And I love that you all sit through all my tantrums and politically incorrect tirades, and can still appreciate what I have to say and understand what it is I'm trying to do. Really, I do. If I didn't have you guys I seriously would be in Bellevue, no joke- a real live Girl, Interrupted and shit.
Only louder and in Spanglish.
Gilberto Santa Rosa - Pensando En Ti
*smooches...glad to have gotten that out of the way*
now maybe I can breathe a little better and get off this damn couch. At least on weekdays.
on another note, someone is "following" this blog, even though I don't know what that means and did not add the "follow me" widget that blogger keeps trying to push... I'm not trying to sound ungrateful, but what is this "follow me" shit?
y'all gonna have me looking over my shoulder on the way home...