I hate to say this. I don't want to bring anyone down. But day three of 2008 just sucks.
Hey, I got two good days out of it and that ain't bad. Here's the thing...How many of you go to a therapist? Raise your hands...Aha...Well, I just got screwed by a therapist (not literally) and I took some advice to heart and it was the wrong advice and I KNEW it was wrong when he gave me this advice but I was vulnerable and I listened and boy do I feel like a fool. And it's not even MY THERAPIST. I don't actually go to a therapist though I think I probably need one because it's only day three and already I feel like I'm falling off of the earth.
I don't think I ever mentioned that I had a nervous breakdown when I was about twenty one. I sat in a bathtub in New York City and let hot water in and cold water out everytime I'd feel chilly. And this lasted for THREE DAYS. Hot water, cold water, hot water, cold water. And then my dad came and got me and we rented a car and drove to Beaver Falls Pennsylvania to see my sweet Russian grandparents and my grandma took one look at me and said, "Vat's da maddah? You don't look so good, shveetheart." (Actually, she didn't sound like Humphrey Bogart but I'm not sure how to spell what she sounded like.) And then we drove to Wisconsin where I went to therapy five days a week and worked for headstart and tried to figure out what the hell was happening. And it took about nine months but finally it dawned on me...MY MOTHER! That was the problem.
And then I was all better and I was in Madison Wisconsin and I went into the Commons and there was an LA Free Press, a very groovy sixties newspaper and I saw some friends in the paper who were in a play and they were starting a theater group so I found a guy I didn't even know who was traveling South and I went with him as far as I could go, then I got on a train and went as far as that could go before the tracks got flooded so then I got on a bus that went to downtown LA and then I got on a city bus which dropped me off on Robertson Boulevard where my friends were starting the theater and I walked in with my little suitcase and that was that.
So I guess I had a therapist years ago who got me to the great "My Mother" epiphany and I truly believe therapy can be a great help but they, like doctors or teachers, are all just human and they are not always right and you just pray that your surgeon does not make one of those human errors while he's got you cut open on a table. And a therapist has your head cut open sometimes when you are really a mess and they can accidentally put your brains back in all scrambled up and you walk around thinking, hmmmmm, I'm doing everything just like I always did but I don't feel quite right and you may or may not realize that this person you trusted has actually made a huge mistake and you are paying for it with your life. Oh, it's a long story and you know I want to tell you but just know this.............I didn't listen to my heart...My intuition. Stupid. And though I know the year of the shit (in small letters, you will notice) is over on paper, I have to make sure that my head is convinced that it's actually really, really over. And I think I was actually convinced of this until someone (a therapist) whispered in my ear..."I think you're going in the wrong direction to find happiness" so I changed direction and found myself, to my surprise, back where I had started months ago. AND IT WAS AWFUL.
But I am turned around now and I'm once again on the right road. And I think January one and two will repeat themselves in some way as the months appear and sometimes January three will rear it's ugly head but I know I will not be getting into that bathtub again and I am waiting for that new epiphany to strike so I can get on another bus and be driven to life's next great adventure, whatever that may be.......................