Saving Grace

Yesterday was a bad day.

No longer able to distract myself, the night fell on a scene of neurosis-fuelled inebriation. There was a poorly painted canvas and several poorly constructed and even more badly decorated bits of furniture.

I thought today when I rose, hung over and feeling sorry for myself, that perhaps, I would have calmed down before making it to my psychologist. That I would report, objectively and with an abstract detachment, my fall from grace the night before. I would talk abt it as an incidental, no longer appreciative of the moments themselves or their origins.

Not so.

Thankfully.

I went to my psychologist today feeling as wretched as the night before. Or perhaps less so for I was sober and lacking the honesty that comes with drink. I felt poorly in the car on the way there. Awash with self-pity and self-loathing.

Self-loathing mostly.

And she challenged me to examine my thought processes, to question what I thought was truth and fact. She challenged me to make the calls required, to send the sms-es.

And for that, I am grateful.

For that, I am ashamed and disgusted with myself, having seen the facts for what they are and were.

I wonder now, how I could have gone on without her. Certainly, I would have gone on. On and on. I have lasted decades feeling wretched. At that rate, I would surely last millenia.

She is slowly changing my life. Slowly changing me. Making me a better person. Making me someone I can live with and live as.

I cannot imagine a day when I don't wish to hurt myself. To lynch myself, to flog myself for every indiscretion, real or percieved. When I don't embarrass and irk myself. But perhaps, this day could exist now.