is it monday, again?

Dear Doc,

Feeling a lil iffy today, as my brain feels as though it’s drowning and can’t make its way back to the surface. I suppose that IS the nature of drowning, yes?

Doc, sometimes I think my life isn’t worth living. Then, at other times, all I can see is life. I don’t understand how those two mentalities can coexist in my head. It’s like the twin I told you about. She shadows me everywhere I go. If I think something, she checks it…say something, she edits. It really is the strangest feeling, but I’ve had it my whole life. Maybe she’s just some made up play friend from childhood. Except that she knows me better than I know myself. She’s a better version of me. Very kind and considerate. She doesn’t curse or carry on loudly. She’s just a very quiet note that I hear, reminding me that I, too, can be better than I am…that someone is always watching and judging. I wish she was dead.

I spoke with N. today. I’m happy that I called, because my appointment’s tomorrow and I totally forgot. I’m only doing a half session, as I don’t think you had any plans to do any serious therapy, per our agreement. I know you wanted to add another pill, so we’ll see how that goes. Maybe I’ll be ready to talk about some things next month. Or after that. Or never. I don’t know. As I’ve told you, I don’t feel comfortable bringing up certain things, and remembering them out loud is not going to help. Hell, Doc, I can’t even allow myself to think of those things. And, were I to tell you, you’d never understand, or you’d lock me up. I don’t like that. I don’t like that someone could have me put away. I’m not crazy like that. I’m normal. Mostly. You have to know that.

I’m worried about my friend today. He is relapsing and I don’t know how to help him. Alcoholism is a terrible thing. I’ve sat with a man who died from liver and kidney failure. That was when I was a little girl. I was the only one who’d sit with him. And, he never stopped drinking till the moment he passed. I have his jug, to this day. A little brown ceramic jug. His name was Tex. I thought he was the cat’s pants because he was named after Texas. I miss him to this day. I hope his grandchildren, who are my age, have passed on the good things about him. I’d hate for such a character to die off to his family. We are all more than what we imagine, I think. For instance, my nieces and nephews think I was once married to Black Beard. But I ended up stealing his treasure and running away to Galveston with Jean LaFitte. lol! Of course, now that they’re grown, they know those old stories aren’t true, but they still tell em as though they are. I love that. My legend will live on. And, for that, I’m grateful.

I’m going to head out, Doc. I need to run to town in a bit. Lots to do, really. But, we’ll talk manana!

Adios, Doc!

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