I knew I’d probably have a good session today because I knew I would be showing up in a bad mood.
Historically. a lot of my best, most productive sessions have come when I showed up cranky and out of sorts.
My bad mood started when I looked to see if Sexout, the mod that let me have sexy fun times in Fallout New Vegas, was also available for Fallout 3.
And it was, yay! I was so excited.
But then I read further and discovered getting it to work would be a lot more complicated than it was with Fallout New Vegas, and I was disappointed.
And as patient readers know, I do not take disappointment well.
But there was more to it this time. The disappointment settled into my soul and metamorphed into something darker and uglier : a kind of cold, tight rage covered in a withering haughty disdain.
Julian, please skip the next two paragraphs.
Then the time came to go to therapy. As is the new normal. Joe begged off and got Julian to drive me. And when I came out at 12:30 pm, Julian was surprised and not even remotely ready. I had to wait for five minutes while he pulled himself together because of his lack of time awareness.
This did not improve my mood.
Then, on the way there, we switched on the good ol CBC and ended up listening to an infuriatingly content free Speech from the Throne where the current Governor General droned on in two languages about how the Trudeau minority government was going to do absolutely everything their research told them Canadians wanted but with absolutely no information as to where, when, and how.
What a bowel-breaking load of horse crap.
So by the time I got to therapy, I was feeling pretty grumpy. And like before, that seemed to energize the session and open the doors for me to express my emotions with greater force and far less abstraction than usual.
And anything that blocks my ability to intellectualize and opens up my ability to truly emote instead of just discussing my emotions is a good thing to me.
I am in bad need of an emotional enema.
Unfortunately. liquor is very, very bad for diabetics.
So I ended up talking about a wide range of subjects in therapy, but it wasn’t the subject matter so much as the passion and expression I put into it.
It’s like I was using that wave of angry energy to carry my emotions forward and get some of my anger about other things out at the same time.
It was really quite therapeutic. I should go to therapy cranky more often.
Maybe from now on, I will try to think of things that piss me off on the way there.
I picture the first words out of my mouth every session being “And another thing…”
And I know my therapist would be thrilled because he knows as well as I do that anger is my biggest issue and the one I have the hardest time confronting and expressing.
And that really pisses me off.
More after the break.
And I am back.
First, quick plug for an article I liked a lot (warning, some fairly gross stuff in here) : 55 Times People Had No Idea What They Were Looking At
Until the internet came to the rescue, that is. It’s 55 examples of times when people posted pictures of bizarre objects they had come across to the internet and said “Yo, WTF is dis?”.
I love that kind of article. It’s 55 fascinating mysteries, with solutions! My only quibble is that I wish the solutions came AFTER the pictures.
That’s pretty basic, folks.
Some of my faves :
On the one hand, I love how it looks. Like a tiny castle merged with a knight.
On the other hand, CLAUSTROPHOBIA.
Speaking of which, while I was making dinner, I had an idea for a PSA type thing to explain what it is like having an anxiety disorder.
The idea would be that you would cut between the anxiety sufferer and the control room of their mind, and show how their brain presses a big red panic button at the slightest sign of trouble and sometimes for no reason at all.
And when the button is presses, you get the whole red lights, sirens, people running around thing like it’s a high military alert, with people shouting “MAYDAY!” and “DIVE DIVE DIVE” and “EVASIVE MANEUVERS” and things like that.
And when it happens, our hero’s Reason is pushed out of control and a psycho mad dog hawk type military commander takes over.
That’s what a lady saw in the neighbour’s yard when she moved into a new apartment.
I would absolutely flip with joy if I saw that. I would immediately know that I had neighbours I could relate to. I would be so excited to meet them.
The article says it’s a voodoo altar. Which would be cool. But not as cool if it was just an expression of someone’s ineffable gothness.
Be my friend, goth neighbour! YOU COMPLETE ME!
Problem : regional iron deficiency.
Difficulty level : can’t get low-tech residents of the region to put chunks of iron into their cooking pots when they cook
Solution : shape metal into “lucky fish” and now everyone uses them and gets enough iron in their diet
It’s frigging brilliant, and so much better than some paternalistic Westerners lecturing them about science and nutrition.
You have to work with what they already believe, and chuck your bullshit about not supporting “superstition” and do whatever works.
And finally, they saved the best for last :
Actually, it’s something even better.
That is a ” Skvallerspegel “, or “gossip mirror”, and it is a mirror set up so you can keep an eye on your neighbours while sitting comfortable in your living room.
And I adore it. Face it, nosy old ladies are everywhere, but only in Scandinavia did they think to make it this user friendly.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.