The Dam Breaks

"I don't want to be the hollow man" -- REM --

The tears finally fell tonight at work. At least for a few minutes.

I've been hanging on this week, struggling with my emotions, but feeling a little better each day, knowing my counseling session was coming up. The whole litany of issues I've expounded on here have been spinning 'round my brain. I think it weren't for the Zoloft, I'd be as depressed as I was last winter. That, of course, is why God created Zoloft.

Tonight, it's getting close to 8:00, and I haven't gotten my usual confirmation call from the therapist's office. I start getting a sinking feeling, and call over there. My gut is right. I have no appointment this week or next week. So now I'm on waiting lists. I mean, I only have sessions every week at the same time. How hard can that be?

This could not be more ill-timed. I am so desperate to talk about this crap in my head. Forgive me, I love the correspondence with my friends online, but it's really not the same as face to face communication. So, the great irony, at least from my perspective, is that I'm unable to talk to my therapist about my inability to talk to my wife. My head hurts.

Well, the frustration and anger about potentially holding all this in for two more weeks put me over the edge. The tears fell. Self-pity wasn't enough, but a splash of anger acts like lighter fluid. Nice to know I can still do it. But I really didn't get the relief, or release, I'd hoped for. This was quiet mewling where I need catharsis. If I have to wait another two weeks to talk, I may get several more opportunities to unleash the flood, because I feel like I'm slipping down a hole. I do not want a repeat of last winter.