Catharsis

Ok, so, um, I’ve always sort of put myself out there. Way before I ever had therapy or was interested in psychology. It just is my temperament. And, not only is it my temperament, but it’s been something of a defense mechanism. If I put myself out there, then people can’t hurt me with any secrets because I have no secrets. I’m like, “Yeah, so what of it.” I’ve always been that way, since I was a little child. Always been WAY open.

My name is Kitt Kathleen. Kitt is my full first name. Kathleen is my middle name. Redundant name. I love it. My Aunt Kathy. My Aunt Kathleen, I’m named after. She’s my godmother, also. I got a bonus godmother in that my mother’s friend, Annette, best friend, Annette, stood in for my Aunt Kathy during the ceremony, during my baptism. So, I have two godmothers. My sponsor, my aunt, and then my stand-in, Annette. So I’m doubly blessed.

But, anyway, back to my name. Kitt Kathleen. Both names are derived from Katherine, which comes from… Sorry for the background noise. I’m driving with the windows open in order to dry my hair. Anyway, Katherine… Catherine derives from catharsis, which is, you know, change through emotional, well, okay, I don’t have the definition in front of me right now, and I’m a little scattered, but think catharsis, think Kitt, you got it. You know, change through an emotional outpouring, through cathartic, through catharsis. So, Kitt is cathartic.

So, here I am. I’m driving to have lunch with my parents. I’m apprehensive. It’s challenging seeing my parents. They’re not happy with the decisions I’ve [we’ve] made for them. They want to be back in their home, which is in escrow [has since fallen out of escrow]. But, they’re not able to take care of themselves. And, I’m not able to take care of them either.

I know they had wanted us to stay in their house, to have us take care of them. But, I have bipolar disorder. My son gets migraines and has social anxiety and depression. My husband would do anything, is willing to do anything. But, I don’t think it’s good for him either to be put in the position of taking care of everybody. He’s got some anxiety himself – claustrophobic, and he’s an engineer, so he’s a little tightly wound.

None of us is kind of chill. Let’s just put it that way. None of us is chill. We’re thoroughbreds. We’re tightly wound. We’re a little over-bred for intelligence. You know, sort of the Jack Russell terriers of the world. Anyway, I guess that’s it for now. A little cathartic sharing.

How Do You Dry Your Hair?

Have I Fucked Up?

Have I Fucked Up?

Okay, so now I’m wondering, have I fucked up? Am I not writing enough? Am I not engaging with my readers? How the fuck am I ever going to get anything done? It seems like I spend all my waking hours on the computer. Well, I actually DO spend virtually all my waking hours on my laptop, iPhone, or iPad. Still, I don’t feel like I’m accomplishing what I want. I’m not writing enough. I feel like a hamster on a wheel. At what point do I simply cut back? What do I cut back? What do I continue to do? Help!