My Therapist is Leaving

This we foresaw but didn’t know was definite.  Now, it is almost a certainty.  My T is not going to be able to continue working with me after the end of the month because the clinic is closing, and she’s been unable to find another clinic position.

This is turning out to be a sad month.

My Nano book is sad.  I am sad that Nano is over.  I am sad that Frank isn’t right here right now, that I have to rely on the computer all the time instead of being able to touch him for real.  I am sad that winter is coming.

I am sad because throughout Nano, I was reminded of last year’s Nano, when I starved myself, and went deeper and deeper into Anorexia Hell.  This is what Summer in November is about.

Summer in November is also about the body. I am sad because still, after all these years, I feel such hatred toward my body.  I feel sad because of the way I have been treated by men in the past, bad, bad men.  I feel sad that my feelings of hatred toward the men that have hurt me in the past sometimes poke at the deep love I have for Frank.

I am sad because without my starvation, a big part of me is gone.  I am sad because I have to say goodbye to being ridiculously thin.  I am sad to give up one helluva lot of “stuff” to do with all that.

I am sad that at one point I was about to turn my back on Puzzle and everyone who knew me.

I am sad because not long ago I believed deep in my heart that there was nothing before me, just darkness, and now there is light and life–everything!–and I have to deal with all this time before me–what do I do with this new life I suddenly have?

What DO I do with it?  When I turned 40 and the Evil Being called The Thing left me, I immediately wrote a dumb novel (at least I wrote it) and then went back to school and finished my degree.

Well, what have I done?  I wrote the novel.  Probably one that isn’t as dumb as the one I wrote when I was 40.  Now….well, I have written a number of books now.  My first novel isn’t even listed in the sidebar.  It was called, Tilting The Thing. Yeah, I wrote about The Thing.  Couldn’t resist.  It took me eight months to write.  I wrote for about seven hours a day.  For godsakes, what was I doing those seven hours?  I wasn’t working nearly that much on I am So Cold, and Hungry in My Soul. I guess the combination of eating and having an MFA pays off.  And the “deadline” factor of National Novel Writing Month.  But what next?  What goals can I set for myself?

And I don’t mean “mental health” goals, either.   I mean real life goals like running this 5k race (it’s the “Winter Classic 5k” in Cambridge, MA on December 19th).  I mean like revising manuscripts, getting more stuff published, getting This Hunger Is Secret out there (once it comes out in paperback), maybe getting back into stand-up a bit, too.

Let’s keep the mental health goals in therapy and let them stay in therapy.  I am a real-life person, and life isn’t therapy.  I do not center my life around my therapy or what happens in my T’s office.  I try not to depend too much on my T.  But to tell you the truth, it is going to be really, really tough to say goodbye to her.

This month is like a chapter ended for me, saying goodbye to so many things.  It is fitting that the month should end with Thanksgiving.  My mother invited me over for the holiday.  I refused.  I’d rather spend it skyping with Frank.  I don’t know what we’ll eat, but I’m sure it’ll be halfway decent, and I’ll be thankful enough.