Therapy?

Song: The Streets (Dry Your Eyes Mate)

I sigh with relief. If this was couple of days ago, this song would have me bawling my eyes out. Now I can just listen to this, and unwind. I've been on my knees washing the bathroom for the last two hours.

I went to my therapist yesterday-shes nice enough, and blames everything on my mother. Ok, not everything, but she gives me enough to think about. I guess I should tell you the story:

When I was 6 months old, my mum left me. She was lying to my Dad and bro, not telling them she was a Jehovah's Witness. And because Dad just couldn't become one as well, mum had to choose between us and her religion (they don't allow Jehovahs and non-Jehovahs to be in the same family), and she chose religion.

So, 'sad' story. How does this affect me? All my life I've figured I don't need mum because she never really was one-she visits and says she loves me and I love her back-but she's not really a mother. My therapist(this is when she comes in) says that I was too young to understand the sadness I felt when she left and I didn't have any breast milk. And because I didn't have the emotional IQ I was a brat and I was misunderstood and seen as a stupid evil demonchild. And I always told myself to be independent and never feel sorry for myself, because I have a decent life, in some way or another. Thats why because when I was in year 6 or 7/8 I seemed quite blank. I was a fantastic actress. For five years, pretty much everybody believed I was this happy go lucky, larger than her pants lass.

And I went nuts because I could only find sadness when I delved, and I was letting go because I found I don't really care about my GCSEs at all. So, my the. says I should tell her a little bit about how I'm feeling, and I was thinking, maybe, come out to her. I've been having nightmares(she kills herself and then blames me because she says she can't live as the mother of a gay daughter. Nice.) and maybe just writing about them should end them...

And also, she said I have to let go of this image of myself: this fat, ugly, stupid, worthless bitch. It might have came from when I was twelve-scratch that it was probably primary school.

I still have to go in to school because some teachers just enjoy escaping me, for the hell of it. But thats next week. Annoyingly, I've realised I've got too much going on: seeing Ria on Friday(hopefully), then Pride AND Childrens Express on Saturday, then I'm seeing Mum on Sunday and I'm not ready to say anything just yet, unless she initiates it.(I am not running away.)Thats all for now, folks!