2003-05-30 - 6:22 p.m.

This week I had what can only be described as �THERAPY IMPOTENCY�.

(It�s not you, it�s ME!).

This LEZZIE couldn�t get it up. (Emotionally speaking)�. During therapy.

Before now I have NOT mentioned the UNIQUE manner in which I converse with my therapist(ish), but it is an important fact to reveal in order for this to make sense. So now I�m gonna reveal.

My therapist(ish) and I do our �work� on the phone.

That�s right. You heard me. Peas and Carrots.

Not in a Voodoo-Psychic 99/cents a minute kind of way, but in a

Her entire Practice/Roster of Clients get�s therapied/head-shrunk-ed OVER THE PHONE

That�s right. You heard me.

There�s a complicated explanation of this that I won�t go into, but let�s just say that it works. It TOTALLY WORKS for all her NEUROTIC, WACKY, RAMBLING clients (mostly writers) and it works for her.

She listens. I mean, she really listens.

And, no�you don�t know if she�s watching an episode of Ryan�s Hope or doing her nails or eating chicken wings or listening to you� but you�re pretty damn sure she�s listening to you, since she asks you �what did that breath/sigh mean?� every 30 seconds.

She�s helped me thru the loss of my beautiful grandmother (Hi grandma!!!! Miss you!!!); She�s helped unblock me with my writing (hi formerly blocked writing) and most of all she�s helped me start to live again (hi life) Yep. She�s helped a lot. My girlfriend/same-sex partner/lady-lover/meal-ticket/patron-saint of all lesbians thinks its MONEY WELL SPENT and wonders why I don�t do it twice a week. I mean, come on, can you imagine living with me??? I didn�t think so. Money well spent, indeed.

So, now we�ve established that I sit in a calm, peaceful place in our home and do my best to turn all my levels down to �2� (when possible) and focus and breathe and talk on the phone to my therapist(ish) for an hour (ish) every week. Hi weekly therapy ritual! Love you (ish).

This week� it was a tough one.

I�ve mentioned before that it takes a lot of �foreplay� to get me/my head/my inner child/my inner lesbian/my inner-inner-outer in the mooood/place to begin to talk about THE HARD STUFF. This warm-up time is usually equivalent to the opening set by a cheesie MC at a Bad Comedy Show. 10-15 minutes where I torture my therapist(ish) by discussing shocking and gossipy current events in entertainment and the world. Whitney on Crack! Terror Alert at Level Orange! Scott Petersons Guilty Ass! Ben and J-Lo!

Yep, it�s true. That�s me. So, usually�like I said, 10-15 minutes.

This week, 30 minutes into it and I�m still, �Like� and I�m all� and she�s all� and Ben and J-Lo� and American Idol� and ..�

THEN� my therapist(ish) stops me and says: �I don�t feel you really connecting today. Do you want to end your session?�

Hmmm. Wow. Ouch. This had never happened to me before.

I was soooooooooooooooooooo UNFOCUSED due to lots of MAJOR DRAMA going on in the LEZZIE WORLD/ lives of closeclose friends that I care about� (Plus Sue and Bill for god�s sake) that I couldn�t focus on the stuff I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE FOCUSING ON: (you know, figuring out why I feel the need to fix everything/help everyone/ make it all better; forgiving my mother; being a lesbian in a everyone's not a lesbian world, etc�.)

So�. Her words just sat there in the air between her phone and mine�.

Then I wept. I wept because I realized that all this NOISE I create is so meant to distract me from my stuff. All that NOISE. All of the other-peoples-stuff that I make more important than mine. Come on kids, this is the problem.

So, I wept....and then I was into it. I talked...we talked... she suggested and pointed out... I balked.... she reiterrated... I compromised... then wept some more... then laughed..then we both laughed... then I thought long and hard... and suddenly I looked at the clock and I was WAAAAY OVER my session time.

She, however, MY therapist (ish) is not a taxi cab-meter-thing.

She had given me back my BULLSHIT TIME and then some.

That�s yet another reason that I know that SHE is the absolutely most awesome THERAPIST (ISH) for me.

I won�t ALWAYS be doing this. This THERAPY(ISH) thing. This I know.

I heard Carrie Fisher comment the other day about being in therapy for 30 YEARS.

That aint�a gonna be-a me-a. Promise.

I�ve got a few more itches to scratch using this THERAPY(ISH); A few more �love and forgive your Mother� lessons; A bit more �Let your girlfriend put her arm around you (gasp) and kiss you in public with Midwestern straight couples watching�and be okay with it�. lessons; And an overall--- you can�t fix everything daily mantra�. And then, THEN I�ll be done.

So, yeah� I AM trying to lower all that extra NOISE� but in the meantime�

I hope Sue and Bill are okay...

xoxoxo for now.