Conversation with W in which too much is shared.

W is like a mentor to me. If mentors are people you would like to become, but don't actually ask for direct advice or direction. W is awesome, incredibly very wise, beautiful, successful and can wear bangs without looking like a dipshit. This alone makes me want to be her.

Except when she has things for me to do which interrupts my interweb time, but since I'm getting paid to do whatever she tells me, this works out.

I went to W to ask her who she could recommend as a therapist. And she was incredibly helpful and gentle and all that is good and light.

And she totally almost made me cry.

And I never cry so this is a pretty big thing. Honestly, I haven't cried in probably the past year, though some have accused me of being emotionally blocked, but I say fuck you, because I have no problem with anger and bitterness and joy (at other's suffering. Yay, schadenfreude) and emapthy and all that crap.

Anyway. Aside from using this here blog thing as therapy, I think talking to a professional would maybe possibly help. I doubt (and I can say this semi-authoritively) that anything's seriously wrong and I need further head shrinking, but you know. Trying to prevent weeping in a closet down the line. So W then runs down the list of why this particular therapist would be good for me (Momentous birthday? Check. Relationship issues? Check. Familial patterns rearing their collective ugly heads? Check. Not where you want to be in life? Check. Feelings of alienation and disaffection from the general population? Dur.). And I kind of wanted to kick her and run out.

Which probably means I need to make an appointment right away.