I am getting nervous. My appointment with the counselor is on Thursday. As it gets closer, I ask myself whether I really need to go. I wonder what benefit I expect. I don't know the answers. I certainly can't afford to pay for a service where there will be no tangible results. I've gone to counselors before, but nothing ever happens. But I know I've told them that as far as the incest goes, I'm fine as far as understanding the motivation of this male amongst a bunch of females, females that are younger and less able to defend themselves. Young females that get a male's hormones moving. I really do understand that part. And the counselors have always just kind of said that things seem to be going good and didn't really have a lot of suggestions. Nothing except me talking to them and telling them what I think. They nod and say its typical and then set up another appointment. And I may have to pay for this entire visit since I'm not sure how the insurance will work in this out-of-network office.

There are days when I feel like life is overwhelming, that I keep doing the same things and getting the same results. Those are the days that urge me to visit the counselor. Other days, like today, I feel like I'm handling things and counseling isn't going to really make a difference. Life will just continue and I'll just keep struggling.

I hope counseling will be the answer. But maybe it's a matter of being ready to accept what they tell me. I know I listen to Dr. Phil sometimes, not often. And I know the direct truths he speaks would scare me witless. I don't know if I have the strength to face his direct-type of suggested needs/actions. It would be tough, and I'm tired of struggling. I don't know if I can do more. But maybe this local counselor might have a different approach.

If I make it to this appointment, I'll find out the reality. That's a BIG "IF."

This has been a weird week. I can't say exactly why, but it's been different.

I did manage to make an appointment with a counselor. Now my best friend is asking if I feel like I'm insane or crazy. At first I couldn't figure out why he was asking that...or whether I liked institutions. Then I figured out he thought that people who see counselors are somehow insane. I guess it's been so long since I thought things like that, that I just forgot some people really don't understand mental health and all the issues that go with it. And it really surprises me with him since at one time I understand he was hospitalized due to stress. He never told me that, his mother did. But I just assumed that everyone today knows that counseling can help a lot of people that have rational thoughts...and some that don't. I guess I grew up with a mom that was in and out of hospitals and who even today takes meds, and that experience just kind of gives me a different perspective. If I could afford counseling, I think I'd go every day....sometimes I feel like I need to go every minutes.

But this week I think I really hit a low. I killed my cat. And it was absolutely horrible and preventable, and I can't sleep since. It was really just a kitten, like a teenaged cat. About four months old. Not full grown, but not tiny. I took clothes out of the dryer and threw in the next load...and then left the room. It eventually occurred to me that I was hearing some banging that shouldn't be....and it was way too late. He must have crawled in some time during the loading process, and I never thought to look for a cat in there before I closed the door..... It was so sad, and I feel so very, very bad! He must have hurt so badly. It was only a few minutes--but long enough. And I just can't deal with it. Not easily. I keep telling myself he had a good life, that he lived a happy life, and that he never wanted for anything--except for me to pay attention to the dryer, of course. It was absolutely horrible, and I don't know how to make it better!

And at work I'm just doing motions. Goting from one task to the next. It's rote. I can't think. All I think about is that sound...and the cat. It's not a good thing!

And, of course, I'm stressed out--so, now, at night, I am wanting to do something I shouldn't. I know better. It is dangerous, and it isn't right. But I think it must be how I really take out my frustration, but playing russion roulette with stupid things. So, now I'm writing this blog so I'm not going elsewhere. I really should learn to handle difficult times, to deal with them in an adult manner that lets me eventually be satisfied with the result. But my heart is really breaking, and I want to scream and make it all better. I can't. I can't make it right!

Last Saturday morning, there was not a flake of snow to be found. Today, four days later, I'm ready for spring! We had about eight inches of snow on Saturday and another 4-5 inches so far today. I miss being a kid and playing in the snow. As an adult, I'm too old to go out and play like I did back then. But it's so much fun!

I don't have a snowmobile. I don't ski. I don't skate. I loved to sled, but now I'm too old to go out and play with little kids...and adult don't usually want to sled. I guess I just need to figure out how to be little again and sneak in with all the kids.

My daughter's making hamburgers for supper. I like not having to cook. It's a good day!

I've made a decision. Tomorrow I will make he appointment to see a counselor. My emotions this weekend have been all over he place, and I have really been wanting to do something that is dangerous and risky. Something I am intelligent enough to know is not good, but the internal, somehow inherent, pull to the negative is strong--and I want to give in so very badly. I feel like an alcoholic that wants a drink so badly they will do absolutely anything to get that drink. My addiction, though--if you can call it that-- is much more dangerous in the sense of immediacy of the result. It's bad enough that I don't even really want to acknowledge it in my writing...and I like to be straightforward in most things. This is so negative, though, that I can't put it into words.

No, it's not suicide. GEt that straight. But maybe the behavior is fake cry for help. A way to damage myself through something that can't be that bad if it happens all the time and no one sees it as a crime or even harmful to anyone else. But, in the end, I know it can be bad...and I know better than to participate. Let's hope my cognizant thoughts are strong enough to battle and win against the unspeakable.

A couple mornings ago, late last week, the radio was on a station I don't normally listen to--and I don't know if I will again. I was rieing with someone who regularly listens to that station, or I would never have heard this. It was an invitation from the radio host and his cohorts for the audience to call in and tell about their incestuous experiences...apparently this followed on from a "reality" television show with a brother and sister in which the brother obviously has some less-than-acceptable thoughts about his sister. The men who called in had their voices disguised, and most were calling in about relationships--mostly not involving sexual intercourse--with cousins. However, one guy called in and said he couldn't believe how these people were making up these stories--but he said he wasn't when he said he did more than he should have with his cousin. Another went to 'first base" with his sister. With each call, the hosts were careful to ask these people how they now related to the person with whom they had this illicit relationship. Without exception, they were "strained" relationships (paraphrased).

And then I started to think about things, and I have to say I have a "strained" relationship with my relative--but it's not based on the sexual activity alone. For several years, he and I were good friends...and then he hurt someone in a way that was totally inappropriate, and for months I couldn't even look at him. And it was just words and actions that did not involve sex that so offended me, but then I realized that his actions were largely based on a manipulation of a kind that had been used to get me into that relationship, and now I just fume when I think of his actions--both recent and distant. I think my reaction to his recent actions are far beyond "normal", and one person pointed out that it could be because though I had forgiven him with my head and I have come to understand his physical motivations, the emotions that surrounded the activity remained and I have not been able to resolve those--let alone reconcile the current emotions based on history with emotions based in normal reality.

But what is normal reality? I wonder how many other women go through their life after incest and feel like they are "going through the actions" of life, like everything you do is just a practice for "when I grow up." I wonder how many women have based their life on a hope for better times, and those better times are so far away from the "here and now" that they can't possibly ever happen--but you have to believe that all you do now will lead to better things for someone (maybe not even yourself) because the bad can never dominate your life. If the bad dominated, then you would fall apart. This is a poor description of the kind of emotions I feel, but it lends a glimpse of the kind of things I deal with each and every day.

I recently realized that I have different memories from ealier years. There are the good memories that I recall of my younger years when life was good, and I played and enjoyed the days...and no one ever said anything mean, and my mom and dad were still together with supper on the table every night at 6:00. Then there's the times that I hated to even use my bathroom because the register in the ceiling allowed a male to see me--and he took advantage of it almost each time I used the bathroom. I couldn't play hide and seek because he would insist on hiding with me and hurting me.... I couldn't sleep at night without him being there...I couldn't tell my mother what was going on because of the damage it would do to her weak emotions, let alone being threatened by my tormenter by his advice that I was doig something wrong and I would be the one that was punished even more. And then there's the memories of having to stand alone in everything I did--from my homework to walking home from the bus to participating in different extracurricular activities--so much so that even today if something needs to get done, I feel like I have to do it because no one is going to do it for me. I don't even remember that these people should be doing things for themselves...no one has ever done the things that need to be be done around me...so I do it all.

I don't know if anyone else has had these experiences or used those experiences to develop a jaded--but somehow immature--adult point of view. And I don't know what life would be like to be a normal adult that can deal with life in the real world. Is there really a normal, real world?