People say I'm crazy. They might be right.

I had session number two with 'my' psychologist the other day.  At first it was hard to find something to talk about - but you know, you always end up in tears - surely this is a mark of a good session.  Before the appointment I had spent the bulk of my day very much inside of myself, only talking briefly with the dog - so I wasn't really prepared when I sat down in this lady's lounge room/makeshift office.

I haven't decided how I feel about my new psychologist.  She's quite a mousy, gentle lady - sometimes she looks at me deeply with her dark blue eyes like I'm supposed to give her answers to questions no one has even asked yet. And other times, like when I sobbingly told her about the John saga and how I think I might end up alone, she shook her head in quiet disbelief as if watching her favourite television character struggle on a midday soap. But then, I think behind her semi-starched appearance she'd be the kind of person I could be friends with. Although, I suppose a psychologist hopes to establish a 'friend' relationship with all clients.  Perhaps inside her mind, this mild, soft spoken creature is cursing people and their problems.  I bet she was rethinking the appropriateness of the framed wedding photos in her office that day...

Oh, I am painting an ambiguous picture aren't I? She's perfectly fine.  I think it's just me. I don't know what I expect to achieve out of starting this over again, but it is nice to have someone to talk to.