Dr. Phil

I use to read. A LOT. I was really good at getting half way through the self help books. I swore the last one I was going to finish because it was going to be the answer to all my problems. Sorry Dr. Phil…I got to the part where I have to own up to my problems and write down some of things that was going to stop me from actually getting to the person I know I can be.

So what’s up with the picture? That’s me. That’s the person I have become. I have become the red flannel jammie bottoms, one green soft sock and one purple sock, hair in a ponytale and guilt for so many things on the shoulders. I tried to take a picture of the guilt, but it wouldn’t stay still.

Today is another day, just like yesterday…hopefully with less sleeping. Today I’m feeling guilt for the person that has walked into my life. I swore that I wouldn’t push this one out. I wouldn’t tell him, “Hey this is what you get, if you don’t like it, keep stepping.” he seemed different, and didn’t deserve the person that would only half try to make a difference in this relationship. I’ve done pretty good so far. Yesterday it crept up on me. That whole ‘past’ thing. The depression from hiding it for so long comes back to get me.
You usually get the warning when you meet me. “Hey, this is me, i’m totally messed up and I might hurt you and I might walk out when you least expect it. You might get this wonderfully loving woman one day and then she’s gone and the harder you try to get her back the further you’re going to push her away.”
I didn’t give Shaun that warning. I told him I would try. I would try to do the best I can. He deserved that.
I feel horrible because here I am again. It seems like when you’re trying to find that person that you know you can be, you stumble across the person that is the complete opposite that has been an ugly part of your life that you would like to forget.
I explained that ‘leaving out the cheese’ embodied and represented that ‘fork in the road’.
I looking at the cheese.

I’ve mentioned to Shaun that I need to see a therapist. I think it would be cheaper to just scream until I can’t breath anymore.
Why is it when you mention a therapist to men, they just don’t see the big picture? How come one makes a joke and the other says I just need to get out.
A therapist people! Because I’m I feel like i’m broken! It’s not time to make jokes or tell me to get out. You would think that someone who has seen me here before and the damage I can do would say, “Oh, okay, let me see…the last time she mentioned needing to see a therapist and nobody took her seriously she destroyed her marriage. Another time she almost drove her car into oncoming traffic. Yeah, I think I might want to see what I can do to help.”
It’s not going to get that bad this time. I won’t let it. I have that mental picture that keeps me going. The girls in prom dresses. I don’t know why that was the one that saved me through the last time I was here. Hope. Hope. Hope.

I don’t think anyone really understands how much those four letters mean to me.

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sidenote to the one and only dedicated reader of my blog: I’m okay. I’m a Seguin, I will get through this. I always do. just let me sit around in my mismatched socks and flannel bottoms until everything is alright again.