Submitted by megan on Wed, 05/31/2006 - 12:09
Well, ducks, I’m off to Stouffville. I’m unlikely to write here while there, since I do not want my mother to know of the existence of this blog. No traces must be left on her computer and no accidental seeing over my shoulder. I don’t care if other people’s parents read it, but I’m not ready for my own to do so.
There won’t be any actual fishing for me. Though my mom’s house overlooks the reservoir, so I may see people fish while I read the new Inspector Banks novel. I rub my hands together in anticipation.
In a more figurative sense of fishing, I’ve gone back to therapy. Writing She’s So Heavy made me realize just how angry I still am over the whole Bob episode. And why the hell should I be the one to carry it around? Fuck that. I’m sure he hasn’t lost sleep over it.
I love my therapist. Last night she said "One problem that many women have is that they are too fucking understanding." Oh, I love her and I love her. But not in a transference way, or anything icky like that. In a telling the truth and kicking my ass kind of way.