Come one, Come all, Therapy is for us all
Last night, as I lay me down to sleep,
I dreamt me my soul to keep.
I prayed for divine love. I wished for divine intelligence.
I wanted something to free me from this belligerence.
I was anxous, I wanted to cry.
Instead I hoped to say goodbye.
I want my fears to leave me. I need my dreams to guide me.
I need loved ones to abide with me,
this time I'm spending, which feels like wasting.
This degree I'm getting, my coffin, it feels like I'm casing.
I'm hopeless and wasted up.
Empty is my cup.

So yeah. That's how I was feeling last night. I don't know what exactly overcame me as I was trying to go to sleep. It could have been the nyquil catching up to me. But I had this sense of peace. I don't remember what exactly I had worked out in my head, but something of it had to do with counseling. I don't know why it made me feel safe or relaxed, but I felt that I just had to do it.

When I woke up this morning, I was feeling better. I had hope. I had initiative. So I didn't really feel like calling a counseling center if I wasn't in some huge crisis. But I followed my gut. I called the center three or four times in the morning and got busy signals every time. Beep, beep, beep, beeep. I hate that noise. I figured it was a sign that I didn't really need counseling. So I showered, ate, and realized that life was going to catch up to me.

I was still feeling down and I was still feeling anxious. So on my walk to IGB for our group meeting, I finally made an appointment on the quad. It was really weird though. It was some sort of resignation to my cause. It was a little bit like a sigh, but more of a... what the heck did I get myself into? I've known for awhile that I've needed counseling, but I never was able to do it. I don't know what compelled me to go today.

I walked into the counseling center rather stoic (if not stuffy). I signed in, filled out some forms, and waited, playing jeweled... that dang game!

My counselor Kyle was really nice, and we hit it off right away. I could tell instantly that he was LGBT Ally or gay, but thanks to so many different past experiences, it didn't bother me at all. It wasn't even a positive or negative thought. It just was. It was nice to realize that I'd finally worked through that issue... although I do have a feeling that it wasn't my issue to begin with. I think my dad's homophobia tainted me a little bit, and it took meeting some awesome people to change my mind. Many thanks to Bernie, Trevor, Mary (and KC) and Stephanie. Without them, my perceptions would most likely be quite flawed by it all.

Anyways, after intermittently crying and talking for 2 hours, Kyle suggested group therapy, which is probably a good idea for me. It would help me feel not as alone, but then I usually end up feeling like my problems aren't really that serious, and I should just get over them. I don't know how that will end up working out, but after crying for over an hour, anything has to be better than that. Right?

Some of the things that we touched on were vague. I didn't mention my dad at all until Kyle asked me about him. I was surprised, more embarrassed that I hadn't mentioned him. I guess I take my dad for granted and as long as there is no issue, I don't worry about him at all. I should probably put a greater effort into that relationship, but it's so easy for us. We both love each other a TON and when we are around each other, it's very easy for us to show it. It's the time and connection, not incessant talking.

I told him about Suzanne's past health problems and her engagement. I talked about mom's thyroid cancer, skin cancer, lipomas and chronic sicknesses that have plagued her body since as long as I can remember. I talked about Stacy's body image and self-consciousness, and my concern for her. I talked about my thesis, Bruce and all the anxiety that surrounds it. I even mentioned Alex and Carly. I wasn't planning on mentioning it, but it seemed relevant. I mentioned being kicked out as a kid, and who knows what. It just sort of all came out. Honestly, it was like diarrhea of the mouth. And I probably could have kept going. Thank god he stopped me.

I sort of had this huge big sigh after everything was all over, and he asked me if I felt better. At the time, I just felt, well the same. Sort of numb and tired. I felt like I was starting just one more thing that I'll have to finish. But I was hopeful. So I guess I felt a little better.

When I got back to my apartment, I managed doing dishes, cleaning up, etc. So I guess that was an improvement.

I told Stacy about everything and she was really supportive... in that great way that I offered up what exactly I was comfortable talking about and she responded to just that. She didn't pry and I really appreciate that. I know it's my struggle and journey and I should look to other people for help, but it was nice to know that she's there for me without needing to "understand" and "fix" me. I told her she should join me, just to bring a box of tissues.

I picked up the movie Step Up 3, which was a disgustingly played out drama of dance, love and betrayal. It was moderately decent, and all of us (Susan was there too) gagged at the dopey romantic scene. Oh and Stacy made me dinner. That was pretty sweet of her.