For my homework last week I had to think about my emotional, spiritual, physical and intellectual needs, and while I only wrote it on paper today, I did have a good think about it. As a non religious person, I decided that my spiritual need would have to be something that makes me feel calm and at peace, so I decided that I needed to see the sea every day. After my counselling session today I went and sat in Frank Kitts park for ten minutes to soak in the tranquility of the green sea and wished that I too was jumping off Taranaki Wharf, and so after work because it was still hot and sunny I rushed home and rushed to my swimming spot where the water was gorgeously clear and the warmest it’s been yet, and I just felt so fucking good. I came home and showered and tried on my new dress, which looks much better with a proper bra then when I tried it on at the shop today, and it was only $35, and it’s two sizes smaller than what I’d normally go for, and it’s long enough to wear without pants which is extraordinary, although I might have to *shock horror* shave above my knees.
So that’s spiritual, and I suppose to some degree today’s swim aided my physical needs. Intellectual is obvious – I need constant stimulation. It’s taken me a while longer to figure out my emotional needs, and I think it’s tied to the stuff that I’ve been going through lately. I need to be around people that I am comfortable with. Who am I comfortable with? Am I comfortable with you? Here’s a simple test: have you ever hung out with me for a long period of time in which I was sober? If the answer is yes, then I am probably comfortable with you. If I get rapidly drunk, then – and this should have been obvious to me a long time ago – I am uneasy, probably with my own standing in relation to you. Good times.
My counsellor has decided to try and figure out at what point I started to fake having confidence and to trace it back and find out why I stopped having confidence in the first place. That’s the stage in our session when I found my chest tightening and my hands curling up and smushing at each other. It’s a funny thing to be aware of your body language but not being able to change it. It also seemed like I was arguing with her about being bullied – she was saying that it seemed like it was an issue that was continuing to have an impact on my life and was therefore important, and I was saying “yeah but how is that productive, to accept that it’s okay to be upset and hurt and shaken by those events? How does that make me stop having depression? HOW IS IT PRODUCTIVE?” I know she was right, but I couldn’t say what I should have said. And I’m not explaining myself properly here, because I don’t want to talk about it again, because I tensed up and wanted to puke tonight but settled for crying instead when I was watching “Smells like the 90’s [sic]” and the video for ‘Jeremy’ came on and I felt like it was 1992 all over again and that fucking hurt and oh, it was just somewhat difficult. The reason I’m relating it here, apart from my own records, of course, is because I’m getting to a semantics thing. I was all “I’m not happy with myself if I dwell on things that are long gone, because I should be smarter than that”, and she was like “what if instead of dwelling you’re processing?” and I said “I like that you can change the entire concept of soemthing and all its conotations just by changing one word” and she was like “well, you like words!” and I laughed, because anyone who has my business card knows that I like words – I really like words.
That was a lame story. My homework is to write her a timeline of events in my life that I think have shaped me. When she said a timeline I thought she meant for the future and I panicked, because what, have goals and aspirations? Ha! But no. And this freaks me out a little, because I know that there are things that I haven’t talked about since Kalpana and I know that my rage at taxi drivers has roots there, but holy fuck, man, it’s just eeeeeeeeeeeegggggggggggh. Yeah.
But you know, things go on. I got my camera back and discovered I had taken two photos on New Year’s Eve. One I knew about, because it was of a crate of beer in the bath and one of the bottles had a different cap, and for some reason that was just enthralling. The other suggests that I sat at the dining room table for a while at the party, and that the house has far too many pepper grinders. I got approval at work for the start of an FAQ I’m writing for our website – or rather, I’m writing the questions but don’t want to have to come up with the answers. One of the questions features Bono. Another talks about religious agendas. Yes, this is government work. I drank a beer tonight. Two in fact. Smoo’s building a model car. My arm is sore. The bath needs cleaning. The people in City Life reruns are still wearing too much lipstick,and I wish I had some purple lipgloss. I lost the lid to my coconut Lancome Juicy Tube on New Year’s. Of course. I’m planning outfits for Auckland. Blah blah. Yeah I’m okay. I should probably just go to bed, although I have once again run out of books. Maybe I’ll read The Game again and neg all the boys. In fact, that sounds like a good idea. Brad’s coming to Auckland with Lisa and I. Roadtrip!