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Home arrow Words arrow 2000 arrow August arrow am i happy because i smile?
am i happy because i smile? Print E-mail
Written by Diana, on 01-08-2000 23:00
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I told Michelle today the distrust I have in Dr. H******.  She acknowledged it and agreed with me.  Said that when she entered the room, she looked at me and thought that poor girl.  I loved to hear her say that.  She saved me that day.  Took me out of Hell.  I told her that I can't tell H******* about my suicidal thoughts and she seems to understand and I said I didn't know how it was going to help me by telling him.  She said she just wants to keep me safe.  The Safety Contract or whatever she calls it I guess means that I promise to call her if I ever do decide to kill myself and let her at least try to talk me out of it.  She told me that today.  She says she's never seen me NOT smiling.  I agree but don't know how to keep from it.  It's just a habit I've had for years now.  It makes things easier.  She says she can see the pain in my face through my smile.  She can tell that it's fake.  I congratulate her.  No one has ever seen through it before.  They all think I'm actually happy when I smile.  I wonder if she gives all of her patients homework.  She told Heidi not to forget her homework today as she was leaving and I was walking in.  I wanted to laugh but I didn't do my homework this week.  I'll try to do it this weekend.  If I have the strength.  I can't say the word 'depression' in the session.  Ever.  It's too difficult to say.  She asked me if it was depression that I was feeling Monday and I couldn't say the word.  I just had to sort of hint that I was feeling depression but I never said the word.  An anxiety ridden mind it is. Pretty bright but not a wiz.  Full of anger, hatred, guilt.  A tower of courage I have built.  It rises tall but sits so thin.  One wrong move and I begin to lose my mind and courage full.  There goes that last light of control.  My family must not count on me, I won't count on myself you see..I am a child lost in a large crowd, sheltered under a burial shroud.  By a graveside I stand.  My family gathered hand-in-hand.  Then this I see, a name on the stone.  The name is mine and mine alone.  Reality strikes that I am dead, they must have really FUCKED with my head.

Last update: 01-08-2000 23:00

Published in : Words, 2000, August

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