I hate my shrink today

Monday, September 25, 1995
6pm, train

I just realized how many little things I forgot today. I hate my shrink today because I feel like an idiot, like I do everything wrong. She thinks I make a fool of myself all the time, which is only partially true – only partially true that she thinks it, only partially true that it’s true.

Well, at least I’m on my way home to see Ted and smoke a joint. Will either help? I started to say in my session that things were going well, I had this great new guy and etc., and she stopped me. She’s exasperated with me. She says it’s the therapy and the new relationship with my parents that has made things better.

I still feel frustrated and at a plateau. I want to be all different and all new. I want to be more productive. Last night I was thinking, “I’m doing better at running errands, completing assignments, etc. But I’m still not where I want to be.”

Last night dropped off at Hil’s. Why do I feel the need to analyze her and her life with her? She must be exhausted or put off by it.

I would like to be closer to her, but I don’t truly know what that means. I’d like to have a friendship that didn’t swallow itself, I guess. I’d like to remain her friend for a long time. 

I’m glad only I can read my handwriting. It makes writing on the train that much more comfortable.

I feel very loving towards Ted. Why do I have to ask if it’s genuine? So I don’t set myself up, I guess. But what if it is genuine and what if it is a setup? It’s not a setup. I believe him and trust him. I think he’s genuine and I think the feelings I’m starting to have about him are, too.

Almost five months away from Jackson. Oh, well. Let it go.

Saturday, September 30, 1:15pm

Currently lying in Ted’s bed. He’s just coming in from getting ingredients for French toast, but forgot enough money so he went back out. Last night, had a great time singing my throat out with Noah and Mike, just singing and singing and when we got stuck for songs, singing an old one over again.

It was like we didn’t have to be embarrassed and hide our purpose, which was to sing, sing, sing. It feels important that these people like me. I feel very complimented that Leslie asked me to be part of her performance and that Noah wanted me to play a part in his thesis film. It makes me feel like wherever I go people will recognize me as a person with something to contribute and that feels great. If they don’t it’s their problem, and not in a platitude, mom kind of way. It literally means that they have their own problems. They feel jealous or lousy about themselves if they can’t accept me.

The night before, I had trouble sleeping because I’d seen Jackson on the street and didn’t say hi, either of us. This is right after I went out with Gale and he told me he’d gone to hear him read at St. Marks and his new girlfriend was there. He’d closed with the poem he wrote for me before we got together. Then I saw him on the street and it made me cry.

Then I walked in my house and Ava called. I got rid of her pretty fast. She drives me crazy. I think she and I are both gearing up to have the talk we need to have about our friendship, which is no more and probably wasn’t to begin with. Just an ugly symbiosis where neither of us got what we needed. I know why I’m hurt. I went over it with Gale who agreed I had a right to feel hurt and angry.

Anyway, had dreams with Ava and Jackson in them, so of course didn’t want to get up and write yesterday. Was feeling teary and moody, but managed to snap back and recover nicely by mid-morning. Had breakfast in Greenpoint and watched movies in Dennis’ black bubble room. I wanted my brother to come see how cool all this is – the motorcycle, the bubble room, the whole thing.

Boy, I hope nobody ever reads all this. I feel so exploited. In the past, I remember Todd Colby getting me to show him my notebook and how proud I was to show off, “Look. I think about things, too.” That was the last weekend Jackson and I were together. Yet, the therapist says, “Give up magical thinking and wishing about other people.”

It’s hard. It makes me want to suck my thumb and cry and cry for all I missed. Chris Lee was goofing around Friday night, pretending to lead an est seminar. He said, “Life is not a story about how your father abused you when you’re three. Life is now.” I felt indicted, also thrilled to be known and addressed. Breakfast is almost ready. Am I in love, or don’t I know?

(To read the girl bomb diaries in chronological order, click here.)