I am tired, and I sorta stalked. And I def worked out.

I'm back from riding my bike.  I went to 93rd ave and 43rd st.  Far.  I made 2 detours.  One at F's apt complex, and one at the gas station to fill my tires.

No luck at the apt complex.  I only did one loop then left once I realized what a goddamn freak I was being.  So F, if you ever read this, I still have no idea where you live.

I'm tired.  And sweaty. I probably rode 20 miles.  Going to take a shower, fall asleep and wake up in time to go out with Dara.  Maybe we'll do something physical tonight.  It's the second date; is that time for kissing?  I forgot the rules.

G'night.

I'm drunk, and I'm gonna ride.

Wow.  It's much later now. But, I've been re-reading my posts and re-feeling my feelings.  I'm still all hepped up, so I will still be riding.

I'm almost tempted to send this blog to F, if only to give him an idea of how detrimental his laissez-faire manner of speaking/therapy can be to one of his patients.  He has turned one tough-ass chick into a wilting flower.  And damn if I'm not pissed-off about that. So, f* you F.

OK, seriously, it's time to ride, I've got hiccups.  Which is not normal for me.  Bye.!!!!!!!!

I am a weapon of massive consumption

It's not my fault, it's how I'm programmed to function...

I don't know what's right or what's real anymore...

When do you think it will all become clear?
Because I'm being taken over by the fear.
----------The Fear, Lily Allen

Lily Allen is my love. When I'm in the mood for well produced pop singer/songwriter cheeky Brit chick awesomeness. Which is always.

Kate Nash is also in that class. High class, that is.

I'm on my way. Ipod is charged and set up with playlists. See you later. F, I'm not gonna stalk you I swear. If only because I'm wearing an ugly-fugly t-shirt and workout pants.

Bye again.

I'm going to ride my bike until I forget about him. Or have a coronary.

I'm off to ride my bike. I can't calm down, and I don't want to get more drunk and wind up with a hammer headache, so I'm gonna ride.  I'll ride on the prairie. Safe and pretty. Safer to my soul as well.

Bye.

Mental Health and a Cute Boy

OK, I'm just back from a night on the town with G and Brian. We went to an art show, and it was pretty cool.

Then G walked up and talked to purple shirt guy. Purple had been looking my way all night, after we had a (very) brief chat about a painting. I said, "I like it, but then I don't". He overheard me, and said "yes, I agree". We then said about 2 more sentences to each other and I got shy and walked away. Thinking he was a weirdo.

So yeah, G winds up talking to him later. And asks him if he wants to go to The Cellar with us. And he says yes! At this point I'm digging him. He's quiet, and seems smart. With really gorgeous curly hair and eyes. Sort of like an older Nick Jonas. I will never tell him that. Because we are going to date and have a love affair. I've decided.

Man, I'm tired. Got to go drink more, because this will be the last time for a while. Maybe I can make out with Dara tomorrow night. Yum.

Purple shirt is a Master's in Counseling by the way. Is that not perfect. He works at the Crisis Stabilization Unit at *****. Ha, ha, ha. Seriously. He may have been there when I was tackled to the ground and shot full of Haldol. Funny. I don't know when or if I should ever tell him that.

OK, time to make a drink.

First, must again reiterate that I want to fuck the pants off of F. Why must he be so nice to me? He really just has to say he is not interested and it will help. Just say, "I think you are ugly and I would never sleep with you or find you interesting." That's what I need to hear so I can kill off this longing. F, please.

They tried to make me go to Rehab

So, here I am at work with 15 minutes left of my day, and I’m saying fuck it and am writing here. 

So F called me back today, with his same familiar tone of voice and style.  Ugh.  I hate him for being so cute. 

So.   Jan wants me to go to rehab.  I ask F if he agrees.   Independently of Jan.  He says yes.   Laughing and joking with me, but still, yes.

I guess I want to go.  I guess I do.  I have to figure out if I am going to turn in my damn paper for Surface Hydrology or just let it go.   I want to let it go, but don’t want a C+.   Fuck.  I guess this will be my last weekend free.  I guess.  

I have to tell my mom.  I don’t want to.  But I have to, because she has to take care of the Bai.  Maybe I can get someone else to take care of him?  Maybe Chris?  I have to call him.  I don’t want my mom to do it; I want to be as unattached as possible to her.   She will not be watching Bai. 

OK, 5:00, gotta go.

Chin on his chest: my psychiatrist's reaction to my confession of attraction.

I talked to my friend a long time today about what happened with F on Weds.  I even remembered and told her more than I told my therapist, mostly because I've had time to process it and let it soak into my brain a little longer.

I am now watching "In Treatment" like it was CRACK.  Laura and Paul, ooooh yeah.  I sound like the Kool-Aid guy.  Anyway, the first two episodes when Laura reveals to Paul that she loves him; hell yes.  Then his (and her) subsequent reactions in later episodes are manna from heaven.  It is exactly how I feel about F.  Or did feel about F.  I think I'm getting over him, especially because of how he reacted when I told him I "liked him."  Cripes, how juvenile a term is that?  I guess I was too embarrassed to say "attracted."  I will not be next time.

Yes, F.  I want to sleep with you.  Perhaps after I get to know you better.  But, if it were the only option, I would fuck you right now.

I DID IT!!

So I saw him today.  We went for our 30 minutes.  He gave me a diagnosis of PTSD with Borderline traits.  Not Borderline.  Yay! Then I asked if I could talk to him for another 10 minutes. But, on to what happened next.

OK, actually first let's go over what happened during the first part.  I walked in, he did his frown again, and I asked him what that was.  He sort of wiffle-waffled, so I said "You did it last time too."  He said it was due to the fact that he was trying to remember what went on in last session.  I said "So, it doesn't mean you're trying to tell me something without telling me something?"  "No" he said. (He also said  later that doctors were human too, which I think he was relating to the whole frowning thing.)

So we got on with it.  He asked me a ton about my drug use.  I told him everything.  LSD, my one time with Crystal Meth, GHB, K (done with that chick with needles), Ecstasy, the little coke I did; fuck what else?  Hash, pot, DXM (of course), whippets, Xanax, alcohol (obviously), no heroin though.  I'm sure I'm forgetting some, but this is getting tedious.

Good gosh, I hope my family never reads this and figures out it's me.  Right now I'm the good kid who is not an addict and has her shit together.  Ha.

So next, he asked me a bit about my father.  When he died, how often I saw him. I told him about him hitting me when I was 13, and Uncle Sam's fuckery.  Then going to Uncle Sam's house the next night for dinner.  He asked about mom's shit and I told him about the walking home.  F asked about verbal abuse. I told him mom told me I was unlikable and mean.  Not stupid.  But fat, in a veiled way.  And gross.  And mean and unlovable.

F then told me he was abandoned, ignored, and not taken care of.  He said this on his own, I didn't ask.  But I love hearing it.  I mean I didn't love hearing that he was hurt.  But, I just want to relate to him.  I just wanted to take care of him. Pathological, I know.  But he is so attractive and fragile.  Fuuuck I like him.  Or at least what he has let me know about himself in session.

He tells me he thinks I have PTSD, not borderline.  Yay, again.  I don't know how to fix it though.  And he's just my meds check guy.  He basically told me that later.  Yeah, so later.

We get done about 10:45. Someone calls him on the phone to check to see if he's heading out to a meeting at 11 am.  He tells them to go on without him.  He then talks about how there's a merger going on and they are having many tedious meetings about it.  He doesn't want to go.  I think I volunteer that he can say I'm in crisis and not go.  He may have brought it up, I'm not sure.  But I say, if you have 10 minutes, I have something I'd like to talk about.  He assents.

So I say, "I don't think I can see you anymore because I like you".  He gets an "oh, I don't know what to do" look on his face. And he doesn't know what to do because he says NOTHING.  I blunder on saying I looked it up online and know it's transference, but online they say you should tell your doctor.

More later.

OK, I'm gonna do it. Talk about it, I mean. Not "do it."

OK, so I see him tomorrow for my second session this week.  And I've decided I'm going to do it.  I'm going to tell him about how I feel.  I don't know why, it probably isn't necessary, but I'm doing it anyway.  I don't care.

Or I have too many reasons, and don't know which is the most motivating:

• This lust is driving me crazy.
• When I left last time I wanted to go and drink, I was sooooooo keyed up.
• Maybe he'll sleep with me :)
• Maybe he'll drop me so he can date me and sleep with me later.
• It'll be fun to talk about- It'll be the closest I'll ever come to doing it with him.
• Yeah, that's def part of it, it'll be tantalizing and sexual to talk about
• I can wear a skirt tomorrow and not look weird because of my cast.  Which gives easy access to showing him my cuts.  Which are on my very upper thigh.  Which then will give him a glimpse of my super hot new underwear I bought for the occasion.  This would be extremely trashy and gross to do, so I will not do it (probably).  But damn, it's good masturbatory fodder.

I wonder if he would get hot knowing I get hot about him.  Man do I get hot for him.  I hate it.  I'm sick of it.

I just want to date someone hot and have sex with them.  Now.

But unfortunately Dr. F is hot.  And smart.  And a smart-ass.  And educated.  And accomplished.  And arrogant.  And fucked up.  All the things that are attractive to me.  He even has diametrically opposed political views to me, which also gets me hot. UGH.  I hate this, I really do.

I think I've finally gotten the courage to do this because I have a therapist.  So I have her to go to tomorrow to talk about it.  So if F freaks and drops me or is mean to me or whatever, I have her to go to and lick my wounds.

OK, need to try to go back to sleep.  Gotta look rested and beautiful for tomorrow :)

PS  Have begun talking to hot chick on OKCupid.  Maybe I can get it on with her.  There are no hot guys on OKCupid.  They are all arrogant and gross.

Yeah, I'm still infatuated, what else did you expect?

I am still infatuated, but the tenor and flavor of the infatuation is changing.  I don't really think it had gotten into my emotional (vs intellectual) core that if he fucked me he would be basically violating all of his professional ethics.  This of course would ruin his career, as he already has the drug issue on record.  Also, it would make him vastly less attractive, because who can be hot for a guy that has no ethics?  So, no sleeping with my shrink.

But perhaps more important to my mental health is realizing that I think I've been making this whole thing up.  If he were interested in me, he would be not blowing me off on Facebook.

So, he's having fun in session, talking about himself, perhaps to make himself feel cool, hip and young.  But damn I like him when he's trying to be cool, hip and young.  But I've got a suspicion that it has nothing to do with me.  Other than I'm a chump and let him talk.

I'm embarrassed that I have to process this so much, but I do.  So I will continue.  I am listening to "Across the Sea" by Weezer.  How appropriate.  "I could never touch you, I think it would be wrong."  The next best song would be Police's "Don't Stand so Close to Me."  Maybe I'll make a playlist of all the songs of fucked up forbidden lust.

I don't know what it is with F.  I truly don't think its transference, if only that we haven't had many in-depth conversations for me to attach to him.  But maybe it's projection.  Here's what I do know:

• He has told me intimate details about his rehab.  That he has to do a urine test every week.  That he was abused by his mother when he was young.  That he grew up Pentecostal and doesn't like it now.  That he has social phobia and took Ambien to help it.  That he uses drugs to get out of his own brain.
• Shoot, is that all?
• I want to keep asking him questions about himself, because it makes me love him more, and I feel that we are connecting that way.
• He is not returning any of my valid scheduling/business calls.
• He did not give me a diagnosis at the end of the last session.  I need to get it this time!
• I love the way he sits and walks.  Not really anything to do with me, but it turns me on.  He sort of struts, and sits with a strut.  Don't ask me how, but he does.
  
• I want him to date me.  I want him to drop me as a client and date me.
• I started cutting myself after this shit started. Well, I also started fucking a boyfriend and drinking heavily around this time as well.  So perhaps we should not blame this on F.  Having sex is probably the causative factor.  I haven't fucked the same person regularly for years, it's always been just random shit with random girls/guys.  But always safe.  I'm sure of that.  Tested and clean baby.
  
• I compliment him on things and he seems shocked but pleased.
• I am ugly and he would never want me in or out of the office.  If I met him at a club, he would look right over my head and into a real woman's eyes.
• I am not real.
• I want him to hug me and tell me everything is all right

I still want to have sex with my psychiatrist. But less so.

It's 5:29 AM on Sunday morning and I haven't slept.  This information will have to be reported to  Dr. F.  I almost don't want to tell him because that will make me look like a crazy person.  And no one is attracted to a crazy person.  Except maybe a shrink?  One can dream.

I didn't sleep last night, but then finally passed out around 9am and slept all day.  I then went for an hour walk/run which turned my back into steel cables.  I NEED to go to Bikram Yoga tomorrow, or will be hobbled for the next few days with the added bonus of tight muscle migraines.  Gotta love those.

I have been thinking about my infatuation with F (duh, what else do I do).  I am very embarrassed about the email I sent him through Facebook.  It was overly familiar with a sort of a frat boy slang.  I guess I was trying to be cute and not that serious.  But it comes off as needy and stalkerish.  In my opinion.  I sent it after we already talked about his Facebook page and how I had tried to add him. In session I said, "Hey Dr. F, I tried to add you as a friend on Facebook, did you see that?"  He replied something like, "Oh yeah, I thought I saw something about that."  And that was the end of the conversation.

Like an asshole, I wrote him a day or so later on Facebook (even though he hadn't added me), btw he hasn't added anyone, he has no Facebook friends, so I'm not taking it personally.  In session he was wearing a certain football team's shirt (I'm going to omit which one) and he had explained why he was a fan.  So here's my email:

Hey "Football team" fan, 

Come on dude, you definitely need to add me. I know, I know, you're not into the friend thing, I get it. Just giving you a hard time.

I'm a "type of politics", so at least we have that in common, if not your "other type of gross politics". I just had to come by so I could read their pages again. Seriously funny.

Have a good football day, 
(Name redacted for privacy)

 

Is that email horrifying or not?  The more I look at it, the less I shudder in horror. But it prob is still not great. Oh yeah, I also need to give myself a nome de plume.  Like the good stalker that I am, I went back by his page a few days ago and noticed he made it private.  As I mentioned before, this is a good idea.  But I am wondering how much of that has to do with my asinine email.  Oh well.

Getting ready to see him tomorrow

So, it's late, 1am, and i have to get my shit together to see him tomorrow.

I need to know what I want to say to him.  BUt I'm thinking maybe i need to do this by hand.  maybe not.

Therapist #2 and her views on F

So now onto the therapist I saw today. She's the good old regular talk therapy style, which is what I want (I hope it's what I need).

We talked a while, and she listened. She seems smart. She was def doing that whole being a blank slate/mirror thing, because I didn't get much of a judgmental or emotional response from her. WHICH IS GOOD. That is what I'm supposed to be getting from Dr. F.

So I didn't tell her everything, I wanted to leave time at the end so that I could talk about Dr. F. Sad and pitiful, but true. If I don't talk to someone about this (other than bf, whom btw is no longer my bf, more on that later) my brain is going to explode.

And Ralph on justanswer.com just told me to get rid of him. Yeah, that's what I should do, but it's not what I wanna do.

So therapist #2, let's call her Jan, listens to me about F. And she doesn't react much, I realize now that I expected her to get outraged like Ralph on justanswer.com. But she said it's normal for me to be infatuated with him. And that sometimes therapists choose to share things for therapeutic reasons. There was a word for it but I forgot what it was.

I was nonplussed. I asked her if he was flirting with me, if not, wtf was he doing?  She said she didn't know. So actually it was a pretty limp conversation, but it helped. Just talking about it helps.

For the past few weeks I have been preparing to conquer this guy and really and truly try to somehow finagle him into sleeping with me. And hey, if he jumped me now, I'd do him.

But maybe I wouldn't. I sort of like him as a person, I think. What I know of him I like. And I don't want him to ruin his career/life. (But hey, if he's fucking other clients, then I wouldn't mind. It wouldn't be my fault then :-))

So yeah. I think I'm slightly over him? God I hope so. I've been wavering with the thought of just telling him everything on Monday when I see him. I would tell him that I'm confused with his self-disclosure. I like it very much, but it is confusing me. Does it mean he likes me?

"Mrs. Robinson, you're trying to seduce me. Aren't you?" Stick Dr. F in there and that's me. That's how I feel.


And if you aren't flirting with me, you are breaking my heart. You are toying with someone who isn't in the greatest place right now, and you should stop it. STOP IT. But maybe he doesn't even know what he's doing, and I'm a dolt for thinking it means anything. I'll tell him all this and he'll be like "that was not my intention at all. I don't like you, you are my patient, and whatever you read into this was all your transference blah, blah."

Ugggghhhhhhh. Fuck it, I know when a dude is somewhat flirting with me. And unless he's an idiot, he should know that I'm flirting hard back.

He's made his Facebook page private. Smart man.

I want to fuck my psychiatrist- Google help me out.

I labeled this post specifically. I have googled and googled for phrases like "I want to fuck my psychiatrist" or "I want to sleep with my psychiatrist, therapist, counselor, etc." but have gotten nowhere.

I find a ton of stuff about transference and boundaries and projection. Yeah, I get it. But everyone talks about how they love their therapist. I want to fuck or sleep with or have sex with my psychiatrist/therapist. I don't know him well enough to love him. Plus, he's probably not my type. I mean I know we have polar opposite views on the world. And he's got a cheesy haircut. Seriously.

So I went to two therapists this week. The first one was a hoot. I mean hoot as in weird. Freaking bf suggested her because she is/was a "scientist" and "PhD." Man, does bf love the PhD's. I truly could not care less. I just want someone with a lot of experience. Back to therapist #1. She does this neuro emotional technique (NET) along with acupuncture pressure point stuff. In NET as far as I can tell, the therapist pushes on your outstretched arm and has you say statements. As you say them she pushes down on your arm, which you are holding up as hard as you can in resistance. Their theory is that if the statement is untrue or you don't believe it, then your arm will not hold up to the force as much as to a true/believed statement.

I had to sit there and hear her lecture about it for at least 45 min. And I was rolling with it, trying to keep an open mind because I liked her. But then she started talking about me having "bad spirits" around me. When I asked her to clarify- mainly, are you talking about something supernatural? She said yes. That was it. Done.

I had been sort of with her before that. Although I don't think she put the same amount of force on my arm each time, which is essential for it to be a valid process. In fact, I know she didn't, just by the arc of the movement of her arm. She followed through on "untrue" statements, and did not on "true" statements. Ugh, just too much undisciplined science for my taste.

I had to pay her $60 for this little lesson in stupidity.

Hate work, but love the Flobots

I am stuck here at work and I hate it. I don’t know if hate is even the word. Ennui I guess. I can not make myself do anything I’m supposed to do.

Fuck this.

I hate work, school and life. And all that is not OK. I guess it may be partly to the drinking on Sunday night, which always takes me a while to get over.

I guess I’ll do the fucking yoga this afternoon, maybe that’ll get me out of this funk

I’ve decided I should never read reviews for movies or albums. Or books. They just ruin what my own thoughts are. And the negative reviews taint me the most.

"Handlebars", by Flobots- Best Song Ever. Or at least this year. Or for the past 5 years at least: