Stop nodding in agreement. Don’t think I don’t see you!
I see a shrink. Well, a psychologist. Are psychologists considered shrinks or is it just psychiatrists? Hmmm…
I see him a couple of times a month. Listen, I have a lot on my plate over here in my real world. I’m raising my husbands son, who happens to be a little bit of a nightmare child. Plus, life. And 4 other kids. And in-laws that try to make me think that I’m a bad, bad person. And…a control freak of a husband. And money problems. And various other “things”.
It all sounds so trivial here. In my blog. When the letters come together to make the words and my thoughts are slightly legible.
But honestly. It causes me some anxiety. And some distress. And some exhaustion.
So…I need to talk to the good doctor. For an emotional adjustment. Every couple of weeks. So I can remain perky. Because, if my boobs aren’t perky anymore, then my emotional attitude needs to be. Hopefully one masks the other.
I JUST noticed. I think…shhh…c’mere. I’m going to whisper this because I don’t want anyone else hearing this except for you…
I think I might be crazy. A little bit.
Not like, go out in the street with those black rubber rain boots, snarly, filthy hair, brown stained teeth, mad eyes, screaming profanities at people and begging for food.
No…I’m not THAT kind of crazy.
I have a different type of crazy.
Are you still leaning in close? Because I’m about to bare my soul to you…kind of.
I get anxious when I have to leave my house.
There. I said it.
I realized it today. As I was getting ready to go grocery shopping for my Passover stuff.
I had to talk myself into getting dressed, putting on make up and getting my stuff ready to leave.
I had to convince myself that it was OK to get in the car and go to the store.
I’ve kind of, slightly, noticed this about myself before. But, I never really thought about it. Until today.
And the strange thing is…
I’m completely fine when I get to where I’m going.
But, this happens…all. The. Time.
I have to talk myself into leaving my house.
How freaking weird is that?
I tried to blame it on being shy. Only…I’m not THAT shy. Not anymore.
I tried to blame it on not wanting to leave my computer screen. Only…this started before I started blogging and twittering and…whatevering. Not to mention, my iPhone keeps me connected. At all times. Yeah, thank GOD for iPhones and wifi connections.
So now. I for REAL. Have a reason to talk to my shrinkologist.
The funny thing is…
Last time I was there, I asked him why he keeps wanting me to come see him. And I asked him if it was, perhaps, because I was slightly insane and he didn’t want to hurt my feeling and tell me the truth. And if I wasn’t crazy, couldn’t that time slot be filled by someone who was.
He laughed. Like I had just made a joke.
Which, obviously, I did.
those time slots ARE taken up by someone who is crazy.
Well, kinda crazy anyway.
But aren’t we all? Kind of? A teeny, tiny bit?
What makes you feel like you’re slightly crazy? Or, am I alone?
don’t forget that awesome dinosaur book giveaway