Dear Roger: Picking At The Edges Of A Wound

I survived the meeting the other day. It wasn't particularly fun, after all, I had to ride the bus all the way down to hell and gone to get there, and that is always and interesting symphony of smells and experiences, but I got there and then filled out all the paperwork. I then had to wade through a personality survey and a psyche profile that is a "one size fits all" piece of garbage that seeks to discover just how twitchy I am at this point in the game. I was pretty blunt about things. There is really no point about trying to hide or blow smoke up anyones ass about how I feel about my life at this point, so I got all that done and I am sure they will find it pretty interesting. Not having a relationship with your parents and being pretty open about telling them you only live for your kids, is like a "BAM" this person has ISSUES kinda indicator.

I had to talk to the psychologist next. Its her job to assess if I have healed well enough from my PTSD to be able to enroll in an educational or job training program and get on with my life. Its a program with will help me get a bit of a nudge into getting a decent job as well, but I have to jump through all these hoops and some of them are a real pain in the ass. This was the worst of them. She asked me about pretty much everything guaranteed to get a rise out of me. The only thing that really got a dramatic reaction though, was when she asked about you. I still cant talk about you. I can talk about my ex and all the shit he did to me, and I can even joke about it with a sort of gallows humor. I can talk about my parents and all the crap I went through with them. I can talk about the death of G to some extent and keep it together. I was even able to talk about Robert and grandma and grandpa, but then she asked about what I did to vent or relieve stress and I said I write this mess here, and she started asking about you and I lost it. I am so tough and hard core about most things. I dont hardly cry over anything anymore, but when she started flicking at the edges of losing you and I remembered that day and that damned phone call, I couldn't breathe. She said I need grief counseling in a very serious way. Haha! Yeah, maybe about what? 16 years ago now? Its just my pain to bear. I mourn all of you and sometimes I think that is my lot in life, to be the one who remembers and mourns for you and all the ones who are gone. It seems like everyone else has forgotten.

I got through the rest of it. It was like having your guts ripped out and dumped on the floor and poked through, and then when they were done they just tell you, "Okay! we will tell you in a few weeks how twitchy you are." I stayed home yesterday and put myself back together and just did some writing and thinking. It was no surprise my back hurt, I was so damn tense all day that it was hard to relax to sleep. I must have looked pretty pissed off and stressed on the bus, no one messed with me or sat next to me and it was crowded!

Another good thing about living in Portland, I get to wear all the black I want and no one gives me a sideways glance over it. If we get to move to where I want to move to this summer, we will fit right in. The SE area is pretty funky and interesting and its where I had wanted to be in the first place. I am looking at apartments down there and if all goes well, we will hopefully find a place we can afford that is on the bus line and a good fit for us.