The Matrix Therapist Strikes Again

I’m overextended. I know that now. This isn’t a rare thing for me, I often take on way too much shit. And post-BlogHer it’s only worse.

I KNOW I’m overextended when I start forgetting guest posts I’ve promised to do. First, I forgot Bluepaintred while I was still in Chicago for BlogHer. Ugh. And then yesterday, I forgot about my guest post for the Dutch Bitch. I feel like a heel when that happens, even though they’re both incredibly gracious ladies who told me not to worry about it.

Nevertheless, I DO owe Bluepaintred a guest post. And it will happen. Just not today. I have to get my “house” in order.

I did manage to finally get the video done for Dutch Bitch and you can find it here.

While I was filming my video for DB yesterday, I remembered that I had a therapy appointment, and that it was due to start in 20 minutes. Thank God I remembered. And I probably wouldn’t have if I weren’t already driving around town doing some silly video.

Yesterday was Session #3. We talked about a great many things, and my therapist asked some hard-hitting questions. She seems to get me, and that’s both cool and terrifying. Cool because I hate starting with a new therapist, having to re-explain ALL MY SHIT to someone, re-say things I’ve said over and over and over again. So it’s cool she’s caught on very quickly.

Terrifying because she DOES ask the hard questions, and that shit usually doesn’t come until around Session #7. Hell, it was Session #2 where she was quoting philosophy at me from “The Matrix.” So I should have known she’d be onto me fairly quickly.

She asked me if I’m a loyal friend and I answered that, yes, I think I am. For example, if you have my cell phone number, you are welcome (though not encouraged, I want to make that very clear) to call me any time of the day if you need me.

Matrix Therapist: Even at 4:30 in the morning?

Me: Yes.

MT: Do people call you often at that sort of hour?

Me: Not often, no, but I do have a friend who took advantage of my open-phone policy just last week at 5 in the morning.

MT: And you answered?

Me: The second time I answered. The first time I was just dreaming about Hanson singing “Mmm Bop.”

MT (scribbling furiously on yellow pad, probably something about how she’s going to drop me after this session because of my shitty taste in music): Why is that?

Me: That’s my ringtone. It’s hard for even me to sleep when Hanson is blaring right next to my head. And I’m a heavy sleeper.

MT: And what happened when you answered the phone?

Me: I went over to her house and took care of her for a while.

MT: And she doesn’t call you like that regularly?

Me: Nobody calls me like that regularly. But I figure if someone IS calling me at 5 in the morning, it must be fucking important.

MT: Is it always important at that hour?

Me: It damn well BETTER be. My friends know the sorts of hours I keep, and that I go to bed at 3 or 4 in the morning.

MT: Hmm…

I hate when therapists say “Hmm.” Because I know they’ve probably heard way more fucked up shit than I’ve heard, and I’ve got enough group and individual therapy hours under my belt to FUCKING *BE* A THERAPIST, if only by osmosis.

So anything that makes a *therapist* say “Hmm”? That’s got to be some wacked out stuff.

Me: “Hmm,” what?

MT: I was just wondering… It’s great that you’re a loyal friend and that you’re dependable -

Me: There’s a “but” coming, I just know it.

MT: – buuuut… who do YOU call at 5 in the morning when YOU need help and support?

Fuck. I told you, she’s good.

Me: Oh, that’s easy. No one.

MT: No one?

Me: Nope.

MT: Why is that? You don’t think you could call some of these same friends that depend on you?

Me: Oh, I know I could. But I don’t. I won’t.

MT: Why?

Me: Because…

Again, fuck.

Me: Because I deal with my own shit.

MT: By “deal”, you mean you bottle.

Me: Yes, I do bottle a lot. It’s not that I don’t have very close friends that I don’t talk to, I do. And frequently. We talk about a lot of stuff. But I won’t lay the shit on them that I need to lay on them because it’s really heavy and I don’t want to drop that in their laps.

MT: You don’t think they could handle it?

Me: (sigh) I don’t know. They probably could, I guess. But I’ve never told ANYONE some of that stuff, except for in therapy. I don’t like talking about it.

MT: But you need to…

Me: That’s what you’re for.

MT: But you told me about this… [looking at notes]… Grace person you met in Chicago? You talked to HER about these things.

Me: That’s different, I explained to you why.

MT: So you CAN talk about it.

Me: Yes, of course I CAN. I just…don’t.

MT: I think we need to explore that more.

Me: I know you do. You fucking bitch who is getting too heavy for me way too fast. Clearly, I didn’t say that out loud, but I sure thought it.

Then we got into my perfectionism. Now, I know it might be hard to believe that I am a perfectionist, when I’m clearly such a fucking mess/slob. But there is a method to my madness. The reason why my bedroom is such a disaster is one of those Catch 22 situations. Yes, I’m lazy and I hate chores, but after a while it gets so cluttered that cleaning it all up is a task that seems akin to cleaning all the bathrooms in Grand Central Station with a toothbrush.

And so, rather than not be able to get it all perfect, I…just…do…nothing. It’s easier for me that way. The cluttered room sort of matches the wallpaper in my mind, anyway. A cluttered room seems somehow appropriate for me. Worse, it feels like it’s what I deserve.

And yeah, we talked about that shit, too, yesterday.

Specifically, though, we talked about my perfectionism as it relates to my creative side. Writing, videos, even karaoke…I cannot tell you the rituals I go through, the HOURS I spend “perfecting” my shit.

The guest video I did for DB yesterday and today is a prime example. Once I get started on a project, I’m in this freaking psychotic Zone and I can’t stop until it meets my vision. Well, that’s not true. Nothing I ever do meets my vision. I just finally get so exhausted rewriting and editing that I finally have to say, “Fuck it, I’m done.” Then I publish it, or upload it (whatever) and look at the post or video online, thinking how many things I could have done better.

I hate that about me. It’s draining. But I don’t feel like I can control it.

Matrix Therapist asked me, “What if you just set a limit for yourself on this video you’re working on? Say, two hours, and that’s it…no matter what.”

Me: Oh, I couldn’t do that. Two hours? That’s like five minutes.

So she’ll be thrilled to know that I spent 9 hours filming shit yesterday and another, um, 7 or 8 today putting it together. All for a silly-ass 11-1/2 minutes of video.

Two hours. HA! That’s crazy! How am I supposed to get anything done in only two hours?

That’s crazy.

Right?

“Wonderful” – Rob Thomas

look at me i’m made of wonderful
wonderful
i’m all easy breath and steady walk
steady walking
but underneath i’m barely moving, no
its like i’m nothing
all the ways they have to make me smile and then they go and break me

-CHORUS-
wait, i think i feel like hell
though i can’t be myself
and i can’t be nobody else but if i could
would you love me then?

look at me, i’m made of wonderful
it’s terrible
i’m all easy come and easy go
as far as you know
but underneath, man, i’m just killing time
i guess i’m past my prime
and now i’m overrated, overdressed, and overstated

-CHORUS-

if i put my hands up, put your hands up
if i fall down
if i lose my place
and i dont know just where im supposed to go
or if you’ll be there when i wake
would you love me then?

and i come home tired
and i come home late
everybody wants me
so i give it away
i’m a wanted man
i’m a wanted man
i’m a wanted man
i’m a wanted man

would you love me then?