I vaguely suspect that I may be losing my mind. After much debate, I decided to go see my therapist on Thursday. Most people dealing with their father being terminally ill, losing 4 pets in 1 year, having their bank card cloned, having a very dodgy knee and writing up a Masters would probably have gone to see a psychologist about 4 months ago. Given that the knee/ankle/back/low blood pressure has been quite a costly process and that my medical aid limit was exceeded by about September, I put off therapy for a while. After the way I have been feeling for the past couple of weeks though, I knew it was time to talk to someone.
I had forgotten how nervous therapy makes me. Despite wanting to be a psychologist, the process of laying all my issues on the table is somewhat frightening. The session itself went well and I felt a lot better for it - although I felt weirdly exposed and vulnerable afterwards, and a lot of "stuff" that I need to deal with surfaced. It was good though, and has made me realise that I need to start looking after my own interests a lot more and put myself first a little more often.
The post-therapy weekend was thus somewhat weird. Friday was quite nice, as I worked the morning shift at the vet and then had the afternoon off (I haven't had a proper Friday afternoon to myself in ages!). Sarah and I took her cat, Cassidy, to the vet for it's vaccinations - I went with to help carry the cat while Sarah held Joshua (who is really cute!). Cassidy was far from impressed with the whole thing, but Joshua seemed to relish every second of the outing! The strangest part of the afternoon was Cassidy sitting on my lap and purring - something that she's probably never done to a visitor before, as she used to be extremely shy! I suspect that she was trying to befriend me, so that I wouldn't take her to the vet ever again!
Saturday was a serious emotional rollercoaster. I went for a walk in the morning and found an injured dove which I took to the vet. On the way there, I just started sobbing about the poor dove (and all my other pets who I lost this year), and then had a long sob when I got home. HOMSI and I went out for lunch, and there was more sobbing in the afternoon. Then, all the post-crying endorphins kicked in and the rest of the afternoon was great! We played miniature golf, got pizza and went to see "Spud". I cried in that too, but I'm going to argue that it was a moving story and that crying was acceptable.
I was in a much better mood yesterday. HOMSI and I went to go look at townhouses and apartments, because he wants to buy a place and move off the Sand of Death (i.e. the evil dirt road to his current place, which may have somehow caused the 5 strokes he had this year). We found a really amazing place with 2 bedrooms and a loft area (games room, anyone?) and a thatched double-volume ceiling. The only thing that is making HOMSI think twice about it is that the complex apparently doesn't allow pets (weird because we saw someone walking a dog in the complex). We also saw a really beautiful 1 bedroom place, which had a gorgeous seaside cottage feel to it. I kind of went weak at the knees - everything was grey and white and light and airy and happy. I'm definitely inspired on the decor front - although not sure how I'll deal with white duvets and cats!
In any case, I'm feeling good today and hope that it continues (mostly because the serious mood seesawing is exhausting). Happy Monday!