Here is my nephew Sam being really, really funny.
And here is my smarter sister's other child and all her blonde curls.
After the last few goofball posts, I'm feeling a little more thoughtful and reflective. I figure none of you will be that surprised when I turn around and go completely the opposite direction. I've always been an "Every Which Way but Loose" kind of girl, and one of these days, I'm going to get me one of those adorable little orangutan side-kicks.
So, ahem. I've been thinking a little bit about maybe getting some therapy. For those of you who have ever read my blog before, you can all say, "Um, duh," in unison. The thing for me is not so much that I feel depressed or anxious in general, it's more that I have a few (cough) issues. The one that bothers me the most is how hard it is for me to let go of relationships that are either unhealthy, or just not right for me. So, I wouldn't need anti-depressants or anything, but if there was a pill I could take that would give me better relationship judgement, I would OD on them every single day of my life. I'm in no way blaming any of my exes and it's something I've been kicking around for the last few years now.
I talked to my sister about it a little bit this weekend. She, of course, agreed that it would probably be a very good thing for me. Then I asked her why she thought it was so scary for people (and when I said "people", I meant me) to get the help they need - especially when "those people" just might have insurance that covered it and already talked to their girlfriends months ago who recommended an excellent therapist. Because my sister is way smarter than me, and as she likes to point out very often, practically raised me, she gave me this brilliant answer:
"I think it's because if you go to therapy, then you don't have an excuse to be lame anymore." She then elaborated, "It's like me and the much bigger house I'm going to move into in October. I'm excited about it, but I'm also feeling some weird pressure. When we lived with four people in a tiny, two bedroom house with no closets, I had an excuse to leave it messy. Everyone understood that there was no way to keep it clean. Now, though, our new house is big and has huge closets and so people will expect it to be tidy, even on days when I'm busy and tired." I hate it that my sister knows me so well, but she was totally right. So, I guess I'm left with a decision. Do I stay in a small house where I have an excuse to be a mess, or do I move into that bigger house and quit being so goddamn lame? Believe it or not, that decision is harder than you'd think.