Some days I just don't want to talk. That is fine except that my job is all about talking. Therapy is all about talking. And I rarely stop talking. On this May Day I have done a lot of talking but with no real direction or purpose. Work was marred by being required to do things that I do not know how to do. I ask the question and get unhelpful answers. Therapy was marred by the fact I didn't know what to say and was so out of touch with my mood today that I didn't really want to be there.
The completely pointless therapy that I had twenty years ended with a final session where I had been to the dentist that day had two horrific fillings and my face was completely numb and contorted. When I said I wouldn't really be able to speak because of the dental work the therapist said "perhaps that means you don't want to talk today". Fuck you! That's the sort of bollocks I had come to expect from therapists. Fast forward twenty years that sentiment was right today. I didn't want to talk.
All evening I have been debating whether to come on here. Not sure if I made the right decision to do so but here I am. Not enjoyed today.
Immersing myself in opera and E M Forster hasn't really helped much but it passes the time. I did cook and was moderately pleased with the outcome. Mozart is as sublime as ever. And I'm away from anyone having any expectation. That must be a good thing.
I'm hoping next time I come to speak to you I'm happier. Not depressed today, merely pissed off. See you soon.
I Heard a Voice.
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