(no subject)

Today will be a slower day. Getting a rhythm in place on fridays has always been difficult for me, and today is proving to be no exception. The mid-afternoon therapy appointment(s) tend to disrupt everything. I'll get still more laundry running tonight after I'm back, and catnap on the sofa (where I'm headed when I finish this post).

This caught my eye, found on E2:

First they came for the Jews and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew. Then they came for the Communists and I did not speak out because I was not a Communist. Then they came for the trade unionists and I did not speak out because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for me and there was no one left to speak out for me. --Pastor Niemöller

As well as this one which is much more US specific:

First they came for the fourth amendment, and I did not speak out, because I didn't deal drugs. Then they came for the fifth amendment, and I was silent because I owned no property involved in crimes. Then they came for the sixth amendment, and I did not protest because I was innocent. Then they came for the second amendment, and I said nothing because I didn't own a gun. And then they came for the first amendment, and I could say nothing at all. --author unknown

*looks around* I don't have much to say today, it seems. Ah well. :p Fridays are wierd. :P

'm gonna lay down on the sofa and dream about my Lady. G'nite. :)

~E-chan

Bouyant...

The therapy group turned out to be one of the two LCSW's, me, B, and Miss Suicide. I've dubbed her this (or alternatively, Little Miss Depression 2003) for the effect she has on the people around her. Imagine an attractive woman in her late 20's. Pretty green eyes, beautiful brunette, with a charming smile (though I've only seen it -once-). Now give her the Trent Reznor/The Smiths/Depeche Mode 'slit your own wrists to get away from me and be glad' personality. She's singlehandedly carried the group into the gloom on numerous occaisions, and seems to take a perverse delight in doing it, as though it proves that she really is sick...

B is... he's B. Offbeat, disarmingly witty, and dealing raggedly with a ton of debris that life has recently dropped on him. He's a charmer, in a country boy sort of way, and is one of the folks I genuinely -like- in the group. And the LCSW tends to be there as a hall monitor type of person; they're there as a safety net in case something bad goes down.

Add me back into the mix. With newly revitalized enthusiasm for life. I'm -awake- and ALIVE for the first time in over a decade. And (from what I've been told) unsinkably cheery, now. (Go figure. :p) Anyway, Miss Suicide is -obviously- not happy with my chipper outlook, and even less so with my recounting of the wonderful changes that've hit in the last week. To the point of literally excusing herself from the room, so she doesn't have to hear me. When she comes back, she starts talking in a lifeless drone... the kind of voice that Junior High Social Studies teachers are known for. She ticks off 'issues'... each of which gets answers, comments, and suggestions from both B and I. She starts getting agitated, lending credence to my assessed 'pity me, but don't try to help me 'cause I like it here' attitude. B steps into the gap and addresses that as well. At which point the irritation crests and she storms out.

Which makes me wonder... if you're not going to therapy to try and -fix- things, why bother? Why not just sit home, watch Springer, and eat DingDongs? *shakes her head* Oh well.

The plus side is that I've been invited to join the gender identity group, now. So that should be fun. In theory, anyway. :p

*hugs* I think it's nap time, and then maybe my Mistress'll be home to chat with. :)

~Ellie-chan