Laughing, "Man, I have missed you SO much"
It's mindboggling how much has changed since I saw him last June... yet his office was largely unchanged. I remember how Lyn used to warn me if she was going to rearrange her office and how silly it seemed to me that people might freak over such things... but I have to admit there was comfort in the sameness of the office. He might have to replace the sofa pillow Reese used to pick at. Seems we aren't the only ones who played hell on those fringes. Beyond the condition of the pillow, even the lack of visible wood on the surface of his desk was the same.
I handed him a copy of this morning's entry and told him it put in a nutshell my reason for calling.
He liked the goals and agreed I've gotten better about making reasonable goals for myself. I've come a long way from the person who honestly thought she could be 'cured' in a year.
His eyes widened but he remained quiet when I told him about the latest adventure in falling off the face of the earth. He betrayed a slight look of surprise when I told him I'd quit writing entirely and had, for at least 9 months, stopped talking to everyone about anything that could even consider breathing near the walls I'd erected to everyone... family included.
He was patient while I detailed the various triggers for the systematic shut down that has lead me to this current place. Most of which are nothing more than allowing myself to return to a line of thinking that came from childhood. Finally, he asked about one in particular, "and you allowed yourself to believe this line of bullshit why?"
That was the gist of most of his questions... "Why?" Not in a way I'd have once taken as accusatory... but with genuine interest in what would compel me to return to life lived in a box. Some of the time I could answer with honesty and the understanding that even then, I knew my reasoning was stupid, delusional and a step backward. Other times, I threw up my hands. I just didn't know. Or at least, couldn't put it into words.
It's amazing how easily one can fall back into a pattern of survival over living... even if the quality of survival sucks.
I put so much energy into keeping the peace for so long that even when my bullshit meter was pegged in the red, I somehow ignored the screaming. It didn't take long to become accustomed to it and learn, again, to pretend away the chaos and convince myself that as no one (who could help put a stop to it) would listen, it would make more sense to stop talking.
Well, the only other one who could have put a stop to it was in the same position I was... keep the peace for the sake of everyone else... it was easier than admitting that we had allowed hell in a skin suit to take over our home.
I didn't have to talk about hell in a skin suit to talk about the effects. That meant so much. 15 minutes a day is my limit. It's all the time she will get, whether it's phone or the crap that's begun spinning around in my head again. 15 minutes is enough to sort out the shit... my stuff from hers... and to keep the limit that she will never again be allowed in even the smallest way to control our time, family or emotions.
That's a start.
In the meantime, it was like going home and talking to an old friend. It was needed. It was good. And in 4 weeks when he asks me "So how are you going on those goals?" I'll be able to tell him, pretty darned good.