Let’s Get the Theraparty Started!

Ahem.  Well, now.  In organizing some of my disorganization, I stumbled across some “little notebooks.”  Rather curious.

And intriguing.  And confusing.  And contradictory.  And repetitive.  And poorly written.  And shocking.  And humbling.  And embarrassing.  And…

I can’t believe I’m actually saying this, but I want a flashback.  Right now.

That house.  There is something about that house.

In re-reading the recurring nightmare I had as a child (that I had again just this summer) the mind cranks away.  Plus after reading some other things going back to the late 90s.

That house.  There is something about that house.

There are two things I remember.  They strike me as just a little odd.

A 7 year-old girl who has no prior history of incontinence, ends up freaking out, and pissing her pants “because she can’t hold it.”  Why? She can’t get in the door after coming home from school.  It’s locked.  If the doors were to be locked, give her a key.  She didn’t have a key.  The doors were never locked.

Then, that 7 year-old girl keeps being told (and afterward keeps going up on her own?) to visit “the nice lady upstairs.”  A woman in her late 80s or early 90s for juice and cookies.  And VERY long visits, at that.

That house.  There is something about that house.

I’ve got a shitload going on in my life at the moment, but who the hell cares? I’ll keep dealing with that and add this to the list?

I think I need to find myself a therapist tomorrow.


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