Had a preliminary meeting with my potential therapist. There is much going on with school and finding a job, plus uncertainty in living situations for me and my parents for the next little while, and financial worries i.e. debt, so maybe I could have started this earlier — but it was today. Not sure yet whether she is right for me, or whether this will do anything much, but I am giving it a try.

I was a bit rushed because I had thought the appointment was at 4:30, but it was actually 4:00, which I only realized around 2:00, and it was a bit tight for me to finish the remainder of my small assignment for History & Theory of Int’l Law class under two hours. I was done mailing that thing off by 4:10, and then I hurried off in a cab. She was waiting outside. It was a very nice day today. It was a bit troubling for me that she was waiting outside to welcome me in, though it was a very nice day and she was taking in some sun for a few minutes. We only had about half an hour as a result of my lateness. I didn’t like that. But, decisions had to be made, and I had to finish that assignment off, because now I really need to start turnings some things in in that class. I have four comment papers to hand in throughout the semester, and there are five classes remaining.

We went in, and it was a hallway.  This was a therapy centre where a few therapists have their offices in different rooms.  No one seemed to be around, or it was just that quiet — on my way out, I noticed that my therapist’s office was double-doored, and I assume the others are probably that way, too.  There were two comfortable chairs facing each other at some distance, plus a couch behind the patient’s chair, and a bookshelf, and side tables next to the two chairs facing each other.  A bit dark but with enough indirect sunlight coming through, with a high ceiling and carpeted floors.

I was a bit out of breath.  I realized that we did not have much time, which she reminded me, though in a neutral way, but I became more conscious of that, because I was much later than I had anticipated or planned to be.  And I didn’t quite know where to start, in terms of giving her a picture of why I had wanted to see her.  She knew that I had asked some other therapists, including one who works at this centre.  Anyhow — I was rushed, but wanted to do my best trying to tell her a little bit of myself, and what I wanted to work on with her.  I always feel that there is too much to my family history, especially my “tumultuous” childhood, and all that went on.  I tried not to be too detailed, but some things were important and so, I wanted to let her know.

In retrospect, perhaps I didn’t have to tell her everything — but somehow, I felt an urge to give her as full a general picture of me as I could in the limited time.  There is one aspect where neither of us was quite sure whether I would be seeing her again, and me gauging whether any of my “issues” were registering with her, and whether the way in which she engaged with my story would be effective or beneficial to me — impossible as that really is in just that one meeting.  But I am impatient, and there was that. I was going to say “the other aspect was…”, but I suppose this next bit is related — perhaps the cause of this first part.  I felt such an urge, almost a desperation, to give her as a complete a picture as possible, and to gauge the effectiveness of these meetings, because I am going through a lot, and I want to be relieved, as soon as possible — and although I should be patient, financially, psychologically, emotionally, and realistically I have room neither for inefficiency nor adverse effects from this.  In general I am feeling anxiety and desperation, or lethargy, in which I just feel like giving it up and in fact do sort of give up, as much as I can, to the maximal reasonable limit in my circumstances that I can allow myself — it is quite far, as I feel it — and I just feel I have no time to waste.  Or money.

She was quite mindful of my current financial situation, which I appreciated.  We set up another appointment for next week, on Friday.  I will see how it goes.  Today, my short but intense “interview” with her resulted in some crying, plus some memories from childhood and something that hit too close to home, so that was tough.  Every time I cry like that (not sobbing or bawling or anything — it’s not the type of crying that matters as much), about things that get at the raw parts of my heart, safely concealed away under usual circumstances, I feel a bit empty.  It wasn’t so cathartic this time, partly because we did not have so much time, and I had spoken about so much in my desperateness to share as much as possible because of the obligation to myself and the necessity to figure out whether this was it for me.  It is kind of absurd, or unreasonable, that I took such an approach, but, I didn’t know how  else, really — it was either that or a half hour of slow, very timid, or wandering investigative conversation, and that’s not really where I’m at right now.  For this reason, too, I wish I had started earlier, but — it was now, today, and so. Yeah.

It was a bit hard to leave it at that because I had shared so much, and I felt sad, empty, and like crying, and too tender, because it was a deep probe into myself, my past, and memories, people, and things that are dear to my heart, but not toward a resolution yet both because we did not have enough time and because it was our first meeting.  We will see how this goes.  She did mention that it would not always be like this.  But today, it was a bit hard.

I don’t like it when people tell me that I had a right to be angry, that I must have been quite upset, or sad.  It makes me pity myself, or makes me absorbed into an extreme state of self-centredness.  I usually end up crying then, because I either feel relief, or, I don’t know, some kind of explosion of emotions, but I do not like to feel that way — angry or sad or whatever I must have felt, or deserved to feel, etc.  I do not like being angry with someone.  I do not like to feel that I somehow have an excuse to feel a certain strong way that lets me find causes for my behaviour in excuses..  Some of it may be true and/or helpful, but for the most part, I have just dealt away with them through my life, and here I am.  But then, problems to emerge and re-emerge, and in some way it means it would be good for me to work things out.  I am lost right now, and have been unhappy for years, so as much as I am used to being this way, I do need to change.  I guess it is nice to have someone to speak to on a regular basis.

When she asked me what cello meant to me, I really didn’t know what to say — I just cried.  It is not that I regret my choice entirely.   I did have valid, pressing reasons for me to leave it, at least at the time, under those circumstances that had accumulated over the years.  It was more the sense of loss that is hard to deal with, and the function / role it plays / used to play in my life, what it means for me that way.  It is a symbol of much of my life, and it is a mirror — it shows everything for me, and speaks everything for me.  When she compared it to my grandfather, well, I wasn’t really convinced of that sort of analogizing or comparison, but they are similar in that they were my rock, and they were taken away from me, though partly through my own will.

I don’t know how much crying is ahead or whether I could handle it, or whether all that is beneficial to me.  But I have also observed in myself over the years the capacity (unfortunately and fortunately) to coast along in pretended oblivion and unconcern, a sort of inertia where I make myself numb and things feel ok, though nothing is being done, and I am sinking.  I think being emotionally honest with myself is important.  I can’t pretend to live in a paradise when things are going shit. I don’t want to dramatize my life, because I really do hate that, the maudlinness, the sentimentality, and I don’t believe it is all too helpful either, even though you are meant to work out even that anger or whatever else you are entitled to feel.  I do want to put feelings aside on the one hand, because I can’t live in the past or any other box — but at the same time, I see that certain important questions about myself and what I want out of my life do keep getting lost, pushed down, and obliterated, even though I feel that that is blocking me from living my life as a full, authentic self in a way that makes me happy.  I need an honest, constant someone to discuss that with even when I don’t want to — because I need to.  Or maybe I don’t need to, and I will figure out that I don’t need to by talking these things out.

Not sure whether I feel better now that I have written all of that down.  But, at least I felt strongly something, and that is, well, something, since I am so dead anyway.  I am exhausted from that crying, though it was only for a few seconds at a time — I mentioned how exhausting it is for me to cry like that earlier.  So.  I hope my comment paper that I submitted today is ok — I liked what I had to comment on, though it was a bit long and convoluted and perhaps not too clear on the specifics of its thesis.  It could perhaps have been better, but then, it was all right, and I intend to continue this way.. just getting some work done.  It does not need to be perfect, and I don’t have the time to be fussy about things.  Mostly it will just be Bs, like most things in law school if you just put in a decent amount of effort (other than exams — of which I have one this time, Evidence).  I have a lot of work to do.  I will now look at what the next reading to comment on is in History & Theory of Int’l Law, and if it isn’t too much I will start reading that.  I also need to write something for Legal Archaeology.  I wish I found it more interesting.  I also have my upper year thesis, and I am really going nowhere on that.  So many things to do.  I also have a job app deadline on Friday, and four others for the end of the month.  Phone calls need to be made tomorrow to inform some people of the date change for a meeting w/ a minister, and an email to be sent out to confirm a gig and to deliver a personal message.  I cannot believe there are only fourteen days left in this month.  But what can I do?  One day at a time.