In Poughkeepsie, NY, there is a building with a sign out front declaring it to be the Duchess County Mental Hygiene Department. This sounds like brainwashing to me, but I don't think that's what they mean.
There are days where I wish I could take out my brain and wash it. Get rid of the years and years of dirt and dust bunnies and bits of broken heart that have gotten trampled into my brain's fibers so deeply I could rent a carpet cleaner for a year and not get it all out. (I'm not sure if I like that sentence, it vaguely reminds me of all those bad writing winners I read today, but I'll leave it.)
I am in therapy now, which I guess is what the fine folks o' Poughkeepsie consider mental hygiene. To me, therapy is not a quick fix, but more of a map, showing you where you started, what wrong (and right) turns you took and why you ended up where you are. It's up to me to change my route and I'm trying my damndest. Some days are easier than others, but aren't they always? I am one of the most impatient human beans you will ever meet. I want everything now, now, now, now, NOW! That just ain't gonna happen. Anything worth having takes time and effort and if I don't think I'm worth time and effort (and there was a long time when I didn't think I was) than I might as well just check myself into the nearest mental hygiene center and ask for The Works.
But I am starting to actually believe that I might not only not be a Complete Fuck-Up, but might actually be a Pretty Fantastic Person. Writing that makes me nervous. But at least I wrote it. Llike the greatest therapy patient of all time, Bill Murray, said, "Baby steps".
I also think I am either a Total Fool or an Incredibly Ballsy Chick to write about this in a public forum. I'm gonna go with IBC on this one, because. . . .well, because I am. I spent most of my life apologizing for being that way and I'm tired. I don't think I'll apologize anymore. I think the more you express yourself about your problems, the easier it gets to face them. And, invariably, I'll hear from people (some I don't even know) who have similar feelings and can relate to what I'm writing, which makes me feel one step closer to possibly being a PFP.
All right! Enough already with the goddamn introspection! These people came here expecting you to be funny, not hand out Special Kool-Aid and promise them 75 virgins! BTW, who the hell wants that many virgins? Who wants a virgin anyway? They're a pain in the ass. I prefer Seasoned Performers. All virgins please report to the Duchess County Mental Hygiene Department. And ask for the hot wax.