My Friday: Started with an 80 minute test prep math quiz, followed by a few hours of frantically trying to finish the book I had a test on during English class, followed by the actual test (which I did great on, except for the fact that I forgot that it was supposed to be only two pages of writing and I wrote four. Yeah.), followed by lunch, followed by Social Studies, followed by a friend's birthday where I ate enough sugar to fuel a whole city with energy for a day, followed by going to a shrink.
From now on, however, I'm going to call her "psychologist" because shrink sounds derogative.
Her office was in a beautiful, spring-plagued street, where the houses seemed to have escaped from Hansel and Gretel and the tree's arms stretched from their sidewalk to the one in front. This particular office had a darling gate, exactly like in Hansel and Gretel, and when I entered (told to "sit on the blue sofa while I waited") an opera was playing full volume. The decoration was lovely yet simple, and there was no secretary.
Everything perfect for me.
Which was good, because I have tried going to pyschologists before and the experience has always been deflating. I've never liked them. It got to a point where I would be in a mood all day long just at the thought of today I have to see the psychologist. I would walk into the office, say "hello," and then sit in the chair waiting for the hour to pass. At first I didn't do this on purpose, I just didn't see what I could tell this perfect stranger, yet as my irritability with the topic grew, so did my obstinacy to talk.
But this psychologist was amazing. Because it felt like an interaction. It wasn't me just sitting there with her waiting for me to spill the beans, because although I might seem talkative or open here on my blog, in reality I am quite reserved and serious. Also, I didn't understand this sort of "one way" conversation, where I am the only one who was supposed to give her thoughts on things. Yet it's different this time. It's me having an actual conversation. And talking about things that I've never talked about with anyone. It didn't exactly feel liberating to do so, straining more than anything, but honestly, you can't go through life just keeping the important things inside. Especially because I do have behavior problems that I would love to solve.
BUT WHAT IF I START WRITING LESS BECAUSE OF THIS!!!
PS. One of Santiago's (the city in Chile in which I live) gems are these hidden streets. It takes turning somewhere unexpected and you're in another reality.