I went back to the therapist and got my hair cut. I think getting my hair cut probably did me more good. It felt good anyway, to see the heaps of dead ends fall away and to feel lighter and less tangled. The therapist, though, was less helpful. Not that I hold it against her. I was in a much better place today than I was last week and so I wasn’t weepy or anything. I was myself and so we talked like adults and she had no good advice for me.
Or she had good advice for me but it wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard from you guys or come to on my own. In other words, it wasn’t any different than I learned out sitting in Mack’s holler consorting with my dead folks–the way is clear. My perception of the situation is accurate and my options are what I believe them to be.
So, you know, that makes me feel better.
Here’s my problem, as I see it: I don’t trust myself. I don’t trust in my inherent awesomeness. And so, even when I know the right course of action, I have a hard time trusting that it would be right for me.
Let me put it another way. If a friend of mine had come to me a year ago in a similar state to me a year ago, I would have recommended that she change her situation and I would have felt confident, because of the awesomeness of my friends, in the rightness of that advice.
I can say it now, but I have got to learn to know it in my soul, that I deserve that same support and loyalty from myself. I, too, am as awesome as the folks I know and love. I am not your pity project. And it’s insulting to everyone–to me and to you–when I entertain this notion that I suck and that folks only care about me out of pity. Not only that, but it continually puts me in a position where I feel so compelled to prove to folks that I do deserve their respect.
That’s just stupid.
Ha, y’all, she cut a good eight inches off my hair. I went to pull it all over my shoulder and there’s nothing to pull.