I didn’t just want something cute, I wanted something clean, quiet and some place I can stay for a good long time. I like the location, and the apartment itself is within my budget, but I still had questions. There were things I needed to look for and verify so that I could stay long term. After going through my own checklist of things I took one final step. I looked to see if anyone in my building is a registered sex offender. A great building with a rat in it is still a rat house. None of my immediate neighbors are rats.
Monthly Archive for June, 2011
An update is provided at the end of this entry.
I’ve been packing while looking for an apartment. Today one came in…. but…. I now need to ask for assistance with the security deposit which I need to pay on the 3rd of July. My move date is the third.
Yup, I’m going here. Hate to, but I am. I kinda need some help. If by any chance you can help with any amount of the security deposit for my brand spanking new one bedroom apartment (which I will move to on the third) that would be a wonderful thing. Or, feel free to purchase a bit of artwork that is set to moving sale prices.
Dr. D said that its understandable that my views on sex are skewed seeing as how I was raised by a sadist and all. He says despite being raised by a sexual sadist I still have to come to grips with the fact that as a human being I have sexual urges. I told him that urges aren’t the problem, its my view of sex that’s the problem. I see it not as an act between two people but as payment for a wrong, actual or perceived. I see it as payment. If someone does something for me I feel I owe them. I also see sex as punishment and a way to humiliate.
Dr. D told me the longer I wait to have sex the more difficulties I’ll have dealing with sexual urges. I know I’m sorta “in heat” but there’s an even greater need that trumps those urges. I need to stay safe in my body and in my head. Having, claiming and owning my sexual urges isn’t the problem, self harm and self destruction is.
I’m not ashamed of being a psych patient. I wasn’t in the least bit ashamed to stand outside and speak to the officer, yet again, and tell him that I’m a psych patient and that I spent 5 days in the hospital which is why the first report of criminal harassment was delayed. This is report number two.
See, here’s the thing, just because I’m in therapy it doesn’t mean my voice has any less weight than a person who isn’t in therapy. I can be heard and believed the same as a person who is not in therapy.
While talking to the police officer he didn’t have a funny look on his face when I told him this blog is for the purpose of tracking therapy sessions and therapy issues. He didn’t treat me any differently. Just because I’m a psych patient it doesn’t mean I have to hide and can’t say anything for fear of being labeled “crazy” or for fear that what I say won’t be taken seriously. Welcome to the new world where everybody and “they mama” is in therapy. It’s almost a fad to be in therapy. What, you’re not in therapy, you’re not on medication?
While sorting and making decisions on what will go with me on this move and what will not, one thing became painfully clear. I have a lot of art. I don’t want to move it with me so I’m offering a few pieces in my Etsy shop.
In the hospital there was a real art therapist who talked to us about establishing our own world. I kind of had a hard time hearing her because as she spoke I sat at her table filled with markers, paints, crayons, clay and paper. I nearly drooled.
Above my over joyed heartbeat I heard her explain that in our new world we’d decide who can and can’t come to our world. We’d decide if people worked, how they lived, how they got their food and so on. Everything was up to us. When I heard that part assignment I declined to participate. I just messed with clay while others drew a world they felt they could be happy in. Not surprisingly many removed the so-called good idea of capitalism. I found that interesting.
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