... darkness sets in

I'm not gonna lie; these past couple weeks have been hell.

And slowly the walls have been closing in around me. It's as though I have the reverse of what our friend Midas had. Everything I touch turns to shit! Friendships. Relationships. You name it.

So yesterday I started seeing a therapist. One of those lie-on-my-expensive-leather-sofa-and-tell-me-your-problems kind of therapist. So I did. And these were her initial findings:

Childhood neglect has lead me to find inner strength in my independence to the detriment of building meaningful relationships. I put up a wall and dance around the issues at hand so as not to have to deal with them.

All very interesting. But how long before I can be 'normal' again? Oh, weekly sessions at $195 a pop should do the trick. And in the meantime I'll live in a cardboard box and eat from garbage cans.

But in all seriousness, there is some truth to what she picked up. I'm not good with people. I don't know how to deal with them. I get annoyed with stupid people and get intimidated with smart people. I screw up friendships and relationships, well, it's been so long since I've had a proper one that I don't even know where I would begin.

Maybe I'm destined to be single. And there's nothing wrong with that. I have a strong, independent cousin who has never married. She lives through her family (two sisters) and their kids and her work, and she is happy. And successful. I want to be like that. And no, she is not a lesbian.

There's nothing wrong with being single. Sure, a warm body next to you in bed feels great. But when emotions start getting involved, it all goes straight to shit, and when everything else around you starts feeling the same way, you start to panic. Which is why my doctor's office slammed me with Xanax. Let me tell you a little something about Xanax: they should NOT be taken with alcohol. I learned the hard way. I was out on my ass with nowhere to live. A friend reluctantly let me in and my drug/alcohol combination left me wobbly on me knees and I made a fool of myself. My fault. I admit it. I shouldn't have combined them. But I did. Now that friend is gone forever. Yet another screwed up friendship because of my lack of respect for others, drugs, and my inability to connect with people.

Life is just one sick joke. Seriously. And I don't think it's a funny one either.