Third Time's A Charm?

I snagged another psychologist. #3.

He's in for a wild ride, because I am committed to total honesty.

We had a Telehealth thing last Friday, kind of getting to know each other. He's an older gentleman (probably younger than me), but up in age. That's good because it means he partially understands the fears and thought processes of Elderly Joe. Kind of.

We chatted for an hour last week and I felt comfortable with him. That is key, because the woman I worked with a few years ago was touchy feely, which does me no good. And that was 100% Telehealth. The guy I worked with before was face to face, but if I told him I wanted to be THE PATS next QB he would have said "Great!"

As I said, I made up my mind to go full bore - total honesty about the fucked up shit that's in my head. That does not come naturally because I am Al Pacino. A deliberately made up character whose actions and words have been perfected over 50 years of playacting. And the poison in my head is totally corrosive - you don't know the half of it. So saying it out loud makes me sound like a complete fucking wreck. Which, of course, I am. I am fully committed to exposing every fucked up thought bouncing around in my head. 

We spoke comfortably; he asked a hell of a lot of questions and took a lot of notes. The conversation ranged from me to Carol to my sons to my father and mother, my grandfather, The Kid, friends; jobs, passions, fears, hopes, disappointments. He circled back around later in the conversation to make certain points based on stuff I told him earlier. That impressed me, because he was already working on my brain. And the points were good ones.

Got all that done in an hour.

I was comfortable enough to schedule another appointment, but I'm shaking things up. Gonna meet in his office, face to face, this coming Friday. I figure that will erase any Pacino shit. I was brutally honest through Telehealth, and I mean brutally, but still, it is not personal enough. I want him to look into my eyes, read my body language, to get a complete impression.

And face to face will make me nervous, which should cancel out any playacting. I really want this to work.

So here I go again. But with a lot more urgency this time around. A LOT. The spectre of Death is an amazing motivator. I need to get shit straight so I can get me some peace of mind. Be more honest with my family. And allow me to do what I got to do to protect me & Carol in this fucked up environment.

The hot breath of Regret, Failure & Shame is scorching my neck.

I am fucking sick of it.

When I'm done with this guy, he'll be an alcoholic. But by then I'll be fixed enough that I can counsel him.

Only seems fair.

And they're off..........................................