Why don't you go where fashion sits…

Squirt it on my tits.

I have had that song, and my subsequent version of it, stuck in my head all damn day.

In any case, I'm still trying to figure out this no goals goal (lol) and the more I think about it, the more it seems like what I'm supposed to do. The last therapist I saw was, not my favorite. I don't much care for a work-book approach to therapy. I get that work on the self must be done and that work might require some direction, but when the shit feels like school, I put on my good student mask and focus less on healing and more on trying to get an A.

Just, not my favorite. As they say though, even a broken clock is right twice a day.

The old therapist was highly critical of my to do lists, my lists of goals and the like, and at the time I just sort of ignored that. Now though, it's become more clear why she didn't care for them. These lists, and the sense of accomplishment I sought from them, served more to reinforce the idea that my personhood had to be earned rather than help me to feel better. Don't get me wrong, they could make me feel good, but as I've already mentioned, those goals were, in large part, at the outskirts of possibility. Somewhere along the line I wasn't simply trying to get shit done, but to buy a new me, to earn the right to be proud of who I saw in the mirror. If I did these impossible tasks, I would no longer have to pretend I was someone valuable, I would finally, actually be valuable.

I need to break this way of thinking and I think getting out from behind the protection of my precious lists is going to be a major step I need to take.

Dicks for listening!