I had a little freak out yesterday because I realized the voices were getting worse, and directly because I was not dealing with my emotions in an open manner. But I can’t deal with my emotions in an open manner. That would only lead to ridicule.
So, I cried a little in my room after meeting with IP for our daily session, which was unremarkable. Besides the fact that he was playing with his ring finger while talking to me, which led me to believe that he was married at some point? That data point led to more tears on my end. I realize while we were talking in the little room, by ourselves, that it would take some kind of miracle to step through the white coat and the Stanford pj’s, and into the human beings that we are. It’s near impossible. Who makes the first step? Who crosses that boundary first? Preferably me, otherwise he risks a lawsuit. What do I do in that little room? I couldn’t imagine doing anything but just sit over there, meekly describe symptoms and lie about what’s bothering me because what’s really bothering me is why we just don’t leave the hospital and have a normal conversation. Just him and me, like people. Over a cup of coffee (yes, that again) or a goddamn drink.
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