Installment Thirty-Six

In a grumpy, sleep-deprived, I-look-like-death state of mind, I arrived at Dr. Larry's office this morning. He took one look at me and for the first time since I began seeing him, I detected actual concern for me under that shrink-stone-face.

"Everything all right Joelly?" he asked me quietly.

No asshole. Do I look like everything's all right?

"I suppose there's a lot going on..." was about all I could muster.

"You look like you haven't been sleeping."

Ya think I like being this cranky and miserable? I hate being me right now.

"I have had a few bad nights."

Ha! Just a few? The last number of months have been nothing but bad nights. Why can't tossing and turning burn calories at least? If scientists can turn cow dung or whatever into fuel, why can't insomnia morph into something useful for weight loss instead of just shrouding the world in bleakness?

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I'm too tired. Couldn't I just take a nap?"

"Joelly, I'm here to help you. Something has obviously happened since we met last. It's your decision if you want to share what's on your mind with me."

Sigh.

"There's too much sharing going on as it is!"

I shouted that, in what I knew was misdirected anger and frustration. "Are you on Facebook?" I suddenly asked him.

"What's that got to do with how you feel? Did something happen on Facebook to upset you?"

"No. There's just too much sharing, that's all,” I said very belligerently.

I stopped looking at Facebook long before Alan Fucking Goldstein and Juliet met the other day. I'm not inviting any more stalkers or creepers into my life. I have enough going on. God knows who else would find me. One thing is for certain, I probably wouldn't find Gabe on Facebook. He could sure use a poke, though, but with a real, not virtual, steel rod preferably.

I could hear the office clock ticking. If I was paying for this, my truculent and childish behavior would be costing me a bomb.

"My daughter is engaged," I finally offered with a half smile.

"Isn’t that good news?"

"It’s wonderful for Deborah. I know I don't sound it, but I'm very pleased for her. It's just...complicated."

"Have you spoken to your ex-husband about it?"

"Oh yes."

I spotted the box of tissues every shrink keeps handy. Like a Pavlovian dog, on cue, I started to cry. No, that makes it sound like a tear escaped an eye and slowly rolled down my cheek when what really happened was I just opened my mouth and started sobbing like a crazed person.

Dr. Larry passed me the box. I carried on like a madwoman for a few more minutes before the thunderstorm--because that's what it felt like--moved on.

I blew my nose.

Then I started to laugh. And laugh. And laugh some more. Hysteria, it would seem, was at the back end of my stormy weather.

Throughout it all, Dr. Larry just watched me, his face in empathetic repose.

"Penny for your thoughts, doctor," I managed to say.

"What I think doesn't matter, Joelly. Why don't we start all over again?"

I wanted to say isn't our time up? but he was being kind.

"Everything all right now? Feel better?"

"No. Everything is completely and utterly fucked up."

Pass the tissue.