(MOTHER ***** ME, I CANT BELIEVE I DID THAT !! NOW SHE PROBABLY THINKS I FARTED. WILL MY NIGHTMARES EVER END ????)

Trying to act as if nothing had happened, no weird noises were coming from the couch, I started talking as I remained in that prone position, the pillow still over my face. I moved it up just a little, uncovering my mouth so I could speak, speak without looking at her.

Thanks for the Dew, doc. Ya know a lot has happened since we last talked, a lot that I truly think you cannot help me with. I am beginning to think that my problems go way beyond any L-word addiction I am afflicted with, that perhaps my unhappy, fucked up childhood is the real reason for the mess I am in.

You had an unhappy and fucked up childhood? she asked almost amused at my attempt to unlock the deep dark secrets of my brain.

No, but I will say I did if we cant find any real reason for the things I am doing and the things that are happening to me.

She chuckled a little and I found that very comforting that my head doctor appreciated my sense of humor. I really did like this woman, even more since she forgave me for verbalizing my desire to Bette ***** her from behind, bent over her desk, after our first session. Yea, I really thought we would be good friends outside the office, outside the role of doctor / patient, but I also thought that was not good for me to think that way.

And, oh yea, Doc, I AM hearing voices.

I began to tell her everything that had been happening to me over the past two months, starting with my heart attack. I knew she knew about it – *****, everyone in the company knew about it, and she being one of the companys mental health resources, she most definitely knew why I had not been to see her.

I told her about dying, going to what I believed to be heaven, seeing friends and family. I told her about Bette and the God thing. As I told her that part, I peeked out from under the pillow to see if she was still sitting on the back of the couch – and she was – still looking at those nails. She waved to me, then to the doc and I quickly put the pillow back over my eyes and closed them so tightly I gave myself a headache. (MOTHER ***** ME AGAIN, I CANT BELIEVE SHE IS GOING TO SIT THERE THROUGH THIS SHRINK SESSION THING. ***** !)