Visits one, two, and three.

The first week I met with the nice lady, I was feeling really, really low. I had just left my job. It, as I said in an earlier post, it seemed that this was the pinnacle. I decided to see the Nice Lady because I frankly was feeling suicidal. Well, maybe not feeling suicidal but the idea of suicide became a part of my thoughts on a few occasions. We recently purchased life insurance and one of the things the agent said about the policy was that it even paid out in the event of suicide. My brain kept thinking things like my family would be better off without me around. They would be taken care of financially if the life insurance paid out. They'd be better off without me. My brain would then remember that it was not true in the least. This was/is just a tough time. Dumping this stuff on the Nice Lady was very helpful.

The second week that I met the Nice Lady, we talked about the fact that things had seemed to be less intense. The only thing that changed really was that there was a bit of time and space between what had happened in the few weeks prior. Yes, even time alone helps things get better and feel a bit less intense. Time does in fact help.

The third week I met the nice lady (I had to skip one week in between due to food poisoning), we talked about the holiday and how frustrated I was with my lovely family. Their behaviors often infuriate me. No planning, no real discussion about what anyone really wants, wants to do, etc. It seems to me that they are making it up as they go. I don't like that - I like to talk, to plan, to communicate, to have an idea of where I'm headed. That way I have a slight chance of being successful in getting what I want out of 'xyz' activity. But, I digress. The whole pot-luck thing we had agreed to turned out to be less of a pot-luck and more of Mom doing everything. She told me what she was going to make and asked what we would bring. She had covered all of the major food groups so what to bring? Chicken Sausage? Drinks? "Bring whatever you want" she said. Then when we told her we were going to bring drinks she said "oh, I thought you were going to bring sausage." If she would just tell us what she wanted us to bring I wouldn't feel the urge to choke the shit out of her as frequently as I do.

For visit 4, etc. see "Looking for a J-O-B Sucks"