>>From: Belacqua
>>To: Perdita
>>Subject: Re: it's fucking SNOWING
>>Date: Wed, 20 Dec 2000

I'm never going to get anything done in therapy. He starts asking me shit like, "What are you thinking when you cut yourself?" And I'm sitting there trying to remember, and I realize I don't know what the fuck I'm thinking and that's part of the problem, but that just doesn't make any sense for some reason, so I just don't know what to say to him. If somehow I remembered exactly what I was thinking, I'd be right back in that state of mind that I was trying to escape from, and that wouldn't really be very productive at all. On top of all that, I just don't want to talk about it with him. It's not really something I care to discuss in detail. I just kind of wanted him to know it was happening and leave it at that, but I guess that's too much to ask. The time for my next appointment is up in the air right now, which usually means for me that I may never go back. That's how I stopped seeing my last therapist. I just told the office I would have to call and make an appointment later and I never called. I'm so fucking passive.

Snow is physically falling from the sky right now. It’s so bizarre. It's barely coming down so when you're walking there are just these little soft points of coldness that touch your skin. I'm sitting here staring out my bedroom window at it as it floats down, and I wish you were here. For some reason, when I'm alone, snow makes me feel REALLY alone. Now it's really starting to come down, and I don't think I'm going to make it to tomorrow without a drink...snow...amazing. Few things make you feel as insignificant as acts of nature. This pathetic little flurry is going to absolutely paralyze this place and everywhere else it decides to fall because we just aren't prepared for it. I could go and stand outside right now and die from the temperature. Sometimes I picture death as being like snow: just this soft white blanket that completely numbs you to everything...takes everything away. I feel wounded now, and I'm not really sure why. I feel like an enormous hole has opened up in the middle of my soul and everything is just leaking away. I'm sad. And just as suddenly as it began, the snow stopped falling and the sun came out...and that's even sadder.

I just feel so heavy right now that I don't think I can move, but I'm going to try and trudge over to the couch so I can spend the rest of the day cowering before the television. Now it's Buspar time. Maybe that will help...ha. I hope your therapy appointment went better than mine did. And I hope the rest of your day goes by well.

I love you more than anything, and right now that's all I have to tell me I'm still alive.
Belacqua

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>From: Perdita
>To: Belacqua
>Subject: Re: it's fucking SNOWING
>Date: Wed, 20 Dec 2000

Belacqua,

Well, believe it or not, your therapy appointment sounds like it went slightly better than mine. I walked in the door and she turns to me and says, "Have you been drinking?" Of course I HAD been drinking at the office party, so that's always a wonderful way to start things off. I like my therapist, I guess, but it's still really hard to feel like I'm getting anything at all from the sessions. I mean, she asked me if I'd been cutting myself and I just flat-out lied. It's not that I WANT to lie, either; it's just that I can't seem to get the right words to come out of my mouth when I want them to. There's just such a practiced, mechanical aspect to my speech that makes me seem perfectly normal and acceptable to people in everyday conversation, but then I go to therapy where I'm supposed to say what I'm really thinking, I go to say it, and the same goddamn practiced lines come out like the truth just refuses to be released from the confines of my mind.

I also can't tell my therapist half the things I want to say because I know she LIKES me. I definitely get a sense of kindness and caring and general concern for my well-being from her, and in so many ways, that just reestablishes my need to hide things. She always treats me like I'm a perfectly normal human being with few real distinguishing characteristics of a crazy person, and she always tells me how well I'm doing and how much progress I'm making. She tells me she's proud of the steps I'm making and the new beginnings I'm finding and the way I'm taking care of myself. How the hell am I supposed to just randomly come out with, "I'm lying to you about the cutting," or, "I'd like to fucking blow someone's head off right about now”? I can't even bring myself to swear in front of her out of respect for her, as if she's in some sort of position of power over me, and it really shouldn't be that way. A therapist is supposed to be more like a friend and confidante, but I can't even use my ordinary manners of speech when talking to her because I'm afraid I'll offend her. It's like she's TOO nice for me to be frank with her. I might taint her naivete or something. I realize that's ridiculous and all, but it sure as hell doesn't seem to matter a whole lot. Half the time I'm talking to her, I want to tell her she's full of shit, and the other half, I want to thank her so much for giving me credit for what I have to live with.

Well, I guess I did enough hoping yesterday to make it snow here because it's snowing today. Or it WAS snowing until I just looked out the window and realized that it stopped since I got here earlier. But I know it was snowing when I was coming in to work because I definitely noticed that it was so beautiful, soft, and quiet. I love it. If it were up to me, I'd make it snow all the time. Snow is one of those things that just seems to piss everyone off but me. It's more like me than any other form of weather. I simply don't UNDERSTAND people who don't like snow. Sure, driving in it sucks, but there are so few things in life that are so powerfully beautiful. Why would you wish it away?

I'm really glad to hear you were somewhat at peace with your thoughts for at least awhile last night. Perhaps the Remeron has helped a little? It's not making the world bright and sunshiny for me, but it is doing wonders for making me able to do my work and that's good for now. I'm supposed to double my dose starting this Friday, so luckily I'll be home with lots of free time for sleeping and maybe the combo of meds is locking into place a little. Who the fuck knows? Like I'd even KNOW when I was starting to feel normal. Ah, whatever.

I hope you have a safe drive whenever you leave to go home for Christmas, and I hope to hear from you soon.

I love you.
Perdita