Slowly slipping into something altogether different.

What does it mean when someone becomes excited to go to therapy? Is it that they're really hopeful? If so, what for? If not, then what?

I ask because I'm excited at the prospect of starting therapy. Damn near pissing-in-my-pants-excited, actually.

I attribute this to the fact that, for the first time in my life, many many many trusted individuals are telling me that I'm not right in the head and BUM BUM BUMMMMM I'm starting to believe them.

Why?, you ask.

Well, it's hard for me to explain, and that's clue numero uno. [NOTE: I'll elaborate on other reasons in another post.]

I, the over-communicator, am finding it difficult to express the gads of emotions and events that have been happening. There's just too much of it, too much stuff to sift through, too many affairs to keep track of. And I just don't have the time. My workin-more-jobs-than-a-Jamaican ass needs to recuperate from all the stress. I'm so busy multi-tasking that I haven't been able to organize the thoughts, thus making it hard for me to Create. And if therapy will help me overcome my frustration, then bring it on. (A tiny voice whispers in my ear: "It's all for writing.")

What else is up with me?

Oh yes: there is the fact that I've stumbled upon Something Too Grand To Be Named.

Yes, it's true. I, the over-communicator, she who spills the beans on everything from fucking to feces and finds it difficult not to impart to a group of strangers that I whip men for a living - yeah, that me - well, I've found something that is too good to spoil by sharing. Something so beautiful that I can't have anyone knowing about it. It's too beautiful for this world and it escapes definition or elaboration. It feels like an emotion in its purest form, raw and wild and thick in your blood, an adrenaline rush at the moment of action. It feels like the very verb and definition of experience. It cannot be subdued into wordplay.

I never thought such a thing could exist.

Which brings me to a strange juncture: at the point of "can't write but would LOVE to" and "too beautiful to write about" lies a kind of peace. I've always known that every part of life intersects and overlaps, but never before has a chasm seemed so much like a bridge. This here, I'm sure, means something big and important.

After I've gotten more than 3 hours of sleep and have been able to get some down time, I'll fill in the blanks.