Blogging isn't ALWAYS enough.

Can we first talk about how I got to dress as a unicorn for a race last weekend? OK thanks. Moving on.

Anybody who really, really knows me won't find this as a surprise. Hell, anyone who's actually read this blog for the last 7 years won't find this as a surprise. I've got issues. Big-, small-, medium-sized. It seems strange to even say that, though, because anyone who says they don't have issues is a lying liar.

But I do.

I've taken a medication for anxiety since my early twenties. In those days I was a ball of stress. I used to take Xanax on days I drove to visit my boyfriend on the weekend because the big city traffic practically caused heart palpitations. But still, today, I struggle with the everyday. I get angry about irrational things. But not just angry -- irrationally angry.

I have a hard time in friendships. I get possessive and jealous, I get hurt, I take mostly everything personally. I have a hard time in relationships. I basically struggle with interpersonal relationships of any kind. I have a hard time communicating those issues. When I start to say these things out loud (or on the internet...), I stop because REALLY? What is my problem? Where do these insecurities come from? They run deep. They affect each and every friendship and relationship in my life.

Lately I haven't felt like myself, whoever "myself" is. Am I happy? Am I not happy? I don't know. I'm not unhappy. I love mostly everything, if not everything, about my life. But I'm not enjoying all of it the way I used to. Running -- stressful. Relationships -- stressful. Socializing -- meh. YOU GUYS, I STOPPED WATCHING GLEE. No really. I totally did. But that's because it sucks, not because I'm crazy. Anyway...

And let's not talk about the sound aversions, you guys. We already went there. Not to mention the various other, random and mind-boggling obsessive compulsive habits I have. Don't look up trichotillomania.

Everything that has been bothering me lately has always been a bother. None of these things are terribly concerning to me. Just "the way it is," mostly. You learn to cope with these things. This way of bumbling through life, dodging stressful situations and relationships and the sound of chewing. I deal with my mood swings and bizarre tics and obsessive compulsiveness. Problem is, I'm not always good at dealing with them. They do affect me every single day. And they certainly affect others. For some reason I came to the conclusion this week that HOLY SHIT IT DOESN'T HAVE TO BE THIS WAY.

I asked my doctor yesterday for a recommendation for a therapist.

I've always loved the idea of a therapist. Laying on a couch, talking and talking and talking. I'm good at talking when it comes time to let it all out. And to do so feels like such a weight lifted off my shoulders. To think that I can do this regularly with someone licensed to listen and work with me and offer guidance in a way that friends and family can't is amazing. What the hell took me so long? We should all have therapists. YOU GET A THERAPIST! AND YOU GET A THERAPIST!

Today I requested an appointment with a woman who's been recommended to me. There are nervous butterflies in my stomach. How does it work? What do I say? "Hi, I might be crazy, I pull out my hair, I hate the sound of chewing, I'm irrational, I don't enjoy running anymore and I want to be by myself all the time"?


Good times, you guys. Good times. Wish me luck.