I think I mentioned a few months back that I had stopped going to Therapy Thursday as I felt I needed to take a break and just figure some stuff out on my own. Or, maybe I didn't mention it. I don't know, I can't remember. At any rate, I decided to go back since I've had a lot of drama going on and I felt it was time for some support. This means I have to start all over again getting a good spot on the Rug Doctor's schedule. My primo Thursday spot has been taken by another likely unstable person and so today I went in at noon. I have now re-named it Wack-Job Wednesday.
As luck would have it, the drama to my Wack-Job Wednesday started before I even got out of the parking lot. I was in my truck and I see this homeless guy come out of the bushes a few parking spots away. I start to back out having plenty of room and the guy was not near me. I lost track of him for just a second and then there he was right behind my truck. Like RIGHT BEHIND my truck, like grabbing the tailgate. Where the hell did he come from? Just a second ago he was two spots away and he could clearly see what I was doing, why would he walk into me? I was cussing about what a dumbass he was and he just keeps walking with his blue blanket slung over his shoulder. Look, Linus, if you want to get hit so you can get some money, you better pick someone that owns a fancy sports car and that didn't just win the lottery when she found nine dollars in her change compartment of her wallet. You aren't even going to get a luxury refrigerator box out of your settlement with me.
I proceed on to the office where my appointment was and I ran across a woman on the sidewalk in a superhero outfit, a backpack and some worldly belongings in tow. She was having a hilarious conversation with the wall. Hilarious to her anyway. I have no idea what the wall was saying, but she was thoroughly involved in the exchange. It's not for me to judge what was happening there, because honestly, sometimes my voices are hilarious, too, and they deserve the acknowledgement of laughter.
I finally made it to my appointment and sat down with the Rug Doctor. We had our normal banter about what has been going on with me, what sucks, what doesn't totally suck and then stuff that will eventually suck and then a little bit about the good stuff I'm missing while I'm thinking about all the stuff that sucks. We talked through a scenario where she was at the airport and that sucked and she was getting angry about it, but then she asked herself if it was worth it to get upset because this standing in a long line to get through security was just temporary and if she can just consider that, it wasn't so bad. Soon she would be through security check and things would be so much better. When she finally got to her loading gate and she was waiting to board her flight, she took some time to people watch. Some people were still grumpy from the trials and tribulations of traveling, but others were happy. Maybe if those grumpy people could look at things as being temporary, life might be easier for them. So she tried to lead me through my scenario and said, "...and what could help you deal with that is....?" And I answered, "Meth...and drugs." This was not the correct answer, for the record.
I don't really say anything that surprises the Rug Doctor anymore, but none the less, I took the time to explain my answer to her. I told her that today, out of the blue, on the way in to work I started thinking about how Shark Bait and I would grow old. Would we be living on the street like Linus and Wonder Woman? Would we be in some assisted living home arguing about who should have won the 2016 Presidential election? What if Shark Bait died first? Would I be alone knowing no one? Would I just die of sadness? What if I died first? Would Shark Bait be sad? He's so social, he'd probably be okay. It's decided, I should go first. But what if we couldn't afford assisted living? What if we were living on the street like my new friends, Linus and Wonder Woman? I've kind of digressed here, but what I'm trying to say is, some of these people living on the street do drugs because life sucks. And, if I end up homeless, I'm going to do meth if I can make some friends that will share with me, because then I won't care that I'm homeless, cold, hungry, haven't brushed my teeth in months, have a cooter that would make a petri dish blush and shoes made out of squished 1-liter plastic Coke bottles with some string I found. We talk about drug abuse and homelessness, but the reality is, I'd rather be high and cold than aware that I am miserable and that my big toe just fell off due to hypothermia or some fungus I got from fighting a scrappy possum for cold fries out of the McDonalds garbage bin.
You all might not be considering this kind of future for yourselves, and I think that is great. I applaud you and your ability to have faith in your golden years. My inner pony voices call bullshit on the potential for "happily ever after." Life isn't all The Notebook. But hey, the whole reason I'm going to therapy is that I'm trying to get the pony voices to just let me enjoy today and not fret about tomorrow. It's hard not to think about the darkness that awaits when there are so many people on the street. It hurts my heart. I talked to the Rug Doctor about it and there are many reasons people are out there. We can't possibly know why each person is out there. I just know that I'm really good at this self-fulfilling prophecy stuff. I remember thinking, "What if I have weight loss surgery and don't lose weight? What if I have the surgery and I gain it back." Nailed both of those things. Gold star, dumbass.
Now, before you say something all logical like, "Why don't you create a positive self-fulfilling prophecy?" "Why don't you believe the good will happen and then it will?" Last time I checked, my life isn't a freaking Disney movie. Look, that's why I see the Rug Doctor. If I could reprogram my brain that easily, I would have. Instead, I'm busy worrying about how I'm going to fit all of my stuffed ponies in that one shopping cart. I'm going to need multiple carts. Should I get them from multiple stores over time, or just go big and take them all from Safeway right up front? What are they going to do? Have me arrested? The jails are too full. I guess I'll cross that bridge if I come to it. (Look, I said "if" instead of "when." If that isn't a therapy win, I don't know what is.)
Anyway, as long as I still have a truck and a home, I'm going to just try not to hit any homeless people and save my pennies. I'll probably also try and stop self-fulfilling with cookies and maybe work on fulfilling with positive thinking. That's funny. Ha! That's probably what Wonder Woman was laughing at the wall for. She probably thought she had her shit together at one point in her life and then, poof, she got that cape and the backpack...sigh. I'll just make sure I keep my pink pony magical pj's, maybe add a cape or tarp to it. And then I can tell everyone about the power of the pajamas. In case you forgot about the power, here is the blog about them: http://angry-pony.blogspot.com/2013/12/the-power-of-pajamas.html.
Well, I think that's a wrap. I'm going to go self-fullfill my spot on the couch and watch TV.
As luck would have it, the drama to my Wack-Job Wednesday started before I even got out of the parking lot. I was in my truck and I see this homeless guy come out of the bushes a few parking spots away. I start to back out having plenty of room and the guy was not near me. I lost track of him for just a second and then there he was right behind my truck. Like RIGHT BEHIND my truck, like grabbing the tailgate. Where the hell did he come from? Just a second ago he was two spots away and he could clearly see what I was doing, why would he walk into me? I was cussing about what a dumbass he was and he just keeps walking with his blue blanket slung over his shoulder. Look, Linus, if you want to get hit so you can get some money, you better pick someone that owns a fancy sports car and that didn't just win the lottery when she found nine dollars in her change compartment of her wallet. You aren't even going to get a luxury refrigerator box out of your settlement with me.
I proceed on to the office where my appointment was and I ran across a woman on the sidewalk in a superhero outfit, a backpack and some worldly belongings in tow. She was having a hilarious conversation with the wall. Hilarious to her anyway. I have no idea what the wall was saying, but she was thoroughly involved in the exchange. It's not for me to judge what was happening there, because honestly, sometimes my voices are hilarious, too, and they deserve the acknowledgement of laughter.
I finally made it to my appointment and sat down with the Rug Doctor. We had our normal banter about what has been going on with me, what sucks, what doesn't totally suck and then stuff that will eventually suck and then a little bit about the good stuff I'm missing while I'm thinking about all the stuff that sucks. We talked through a scenario where she was at the airport and that sucked and she was getting angry about it, but then she asked herself if it was worth it to get upset because this standing in a long line to get through security was just temporary and if she can just consider that, it wasn't so bad. Soon she would be through security check and things would be so much better. When she finally got to her loading gate and she was waiting to board her flight, she took some time to people watch. Some people were still grumpy from the trials and tribulations of traveling, but others were happy. Maybe if those grumpy people could look at things as being temporary, life might be easier for them. So she tried to lead me through my scenario and said, "...and what could help you deal with that is....?" And I answered, "Meth...and drugs." This was not the correct answer, for the record.
I don't really say anything that surprises the Rug Doctor anymore, but none the less, I took the time to explain my answer to her. I told her that today, out of the blue, on the way in to work I started thinking about how Shark Bait and I would grow old. Would we be living on the street like Linus and Wonder Woman? Would we be in some assisted living home arguing about who should have won the 2016 Presidential election? What if Shark Bait died first? Would I be alone knowing no one? Would I just die of sadness? What if I died first? Would Shark Bait be sad? He's so social, he'd probably be okay. It's decided, I should go first. But what if we couldn't afford assisted living? What if we were living on the street like my new friends, Linus and Wonder Woman? I've kind of digressed here, but what I'm trying to say is, some of these people living on the street do drugs because life sucks. And, if I end up homeless, I'm going to do meth if I can make some friends that will share with me, because then I won't care that I'm homeless, cold, hungry, haven't brushed my teeth in months, have a cooter that would make a petri dish blush and shoes made out of squished 1-liter plastic Coke bottles with some string I found. We talk about drug abuse and homelessness, but the reality is, I'd rather be high and cold than aware that I am miserable and that my big toe just fell off due to hypothermia or some fungus I got from fighting a scrappy possum for cold fries out of the McDonalds garbage bin.
You all might not be considering this kind of future for yourselves, and I think that is great. I applaud you and your ability to have faith in your golden years. My inner pony voices call bullshit on the potential for "happily ever after." Life isn't all The Notebook. But hey, the whole reason I'm going to therapy is that I'm trying to get the pony voices to just let me enjoy today and not fret about tomorrow. It's hard not to think about the darkness that awaits when there are so many people on the street. It hurts my heart. I talked to the Rug Doctor about it and there are many reasons people are out there. We can't possibly know why each person is out there. I just know that I'm really good at this self-fulfilling prophecy stuff. I remember thinking, "What if I have weight loss surgery and don't lose weight? What if I have the surgery and I gain it back." Nailed both of those things. Gold star, dumbass.
Now, before you say something all logical like, "Why don't you create a positive self-fulfilling prophecy?" "Why don't you believe the good will happen and then it will?" Last time I checked, my life isn't a freaking Disney movie. Look, that's why I see the Rug Doctor. If I could reprogram my brain that easily, I would have. Instead, I'm busy worrying about how I'm going to fit all of my stuffed ponies in that one shopping cart. I'm going to need multiple carts. Should I get them from multiple stores over time, or just go big and take them all from Safeway right up front? What are they going to do? Have me arrested? The jails are too full. I guess I'll cross that bridge if I come to it. (Look, I said "if" instead of "when." If that isn't a therapy win, I don't know what is.)
Anyway, as long as I still have a truck and a home, I'm going to just try not to hit any homeless people and save my pennies. I'll probably also try and stop self-fulfilling with cookies and maybe work on fulfilling with positive thinking. That's funny. Ha! That's probably what Wonder Woman was laughing at the wall for. She probably thought she had her shit together at one point in her life and then, poof, she got that cape and the backpack...sigh. I'll just make sure I keep my pink pony magical pj's, maybe add a cape or tarp to it. And then I can tell everyone about the power of the pajamas. In case you forgot about the power, here is the blog about them: http://angry-pony.blogspot.com/2013/12/the-power-of-pajamas.html.
Well, I think that's a wrap. I'm going to go self-fullfill my spot on the couch and watch TV.
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