Is it an insult to my generation that I do not like pop/rock versions of holiday music? There is something about curling up on my couch in a pair of big, fuzzy socks, hot chocolate and a skein of yarn and listening to my friends Nat, Johnny, and Frank. I could not imagine the same scene playing out to the vocal interpretations of Christina Aguilera. Although, the fuzzy socks might be a bit much right now given that it is in the 70s outside. So maybe I am curling up with a glass of iced tea and flip-flops.
Dr. Gray wants me to write a letter to my mom for our next session. I really do not want to write a letter to my mom. I don’t think I realized I had as much anger as I do until our last session. Mom stuff is tricky. There’s all of this guilt and sadness and anger juxtaposed next to love, apathy, and pity. I am really not sure how to start this letter, henceforth, I’ve been putting it off all week. It has not been the best couple days. I think the anxiety of actually addressing these issues is sending me into a tailspin. And I think my behavior is reactive to this anxiety. Which leaves me feeling uncertain and kind of nauseated – no pun intended. I’m going to write the letter, I’m going to write the letter.
I bought a new book and some new music tonight in an attempt to cheer myself up. I know this too shall pass, but I’m nervous that I might be stuck in a rut right now.
At that particular time...
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