"I wish you'd help me look into a more interesting problem... namely, my sanity."
~Kurt Vonnegut, Welcome To The Monkey House
I am beginning with a sigh because, well, a little later today I will be meeting my new therapist. Yes. Another therapist. This one will make a lifetime total of... hold on to your hats... wait for it... 51. Yep, I have had 51 therapists in my 51 years of life. Wow. That sounds like a lot... doesn't it? Yes. 51! But hey, it's not like I am all that crazy, at least not anymore, I am just, well, you know, in need of clarity from time to time. And that's normal... right? I mean there was that brief time from 1998 through 2003 when I was a bit, shall we say, NUTS. But that was then, 10 years later, a full decade later, I am once again running with all my gears working just fine. But from time to time it is good to take one in for a tune up, especially with a model as old as I am. LOL.
Besides, it's time to refill the Valium. Now before you get all judgmental, I only go through 60 a year, which is not to bad. And frankly, most of the time I cope pretty well without it. I don't like Valium, but it does help with my restless leg syndrome. Sometimes. Mostly I take a Valium when I can't deal with the sound of my neighbors dog hitting the fence, and falling to the ground with a that inevitable whelp. My neighbor is an ass. I wish he would move. Too bad we don't live in the land of wishes. If we did, I wouldn't wish he would move, I would wish he would love his dog more than he hated me. I wish he would love the dog as much as his dog loves him. If that were the case the neighbor would be a much happier person. And that would make everyone around him happier as well.
You can't live other peoples lives for them.
So, I live my life. And once in a while Valium helps me do it.
In the trailer for the new Woody Allen movie, Blue Jasmine, the character of Jasmine, in her despair, laments, "There's only so many traumas a person can withstand till they take to the streets and start screaming." Boy oh boy does that resonate with me. 10 years ago I broke free from a deep, 5 year long depression, which included Anhedonia, as if the sadness wasn't enough. Call me an overachiever. But that was then and this is now and here I am today, as happy as I can find the energy to be. Am I perfect? Is my life perfect? Well I, and my life, have our moments, but for the most part it's all good. Good is good. Good means there is room to grow. I don't think I would want perfect. Perfect sounds boring. I mean, where do you go from there?