Trust Me, I'm Not NORMALLY Crazy

It's funny how you can meet a person at a certain point in your life but the person they are meeting is probably not the person that you would hope they would meet.

Was any of that sentence in English? I find myself drifting off into Klingon lately.

I've been playing it fairly stoic with my new guy friend. We talk about everything but I'm careful not to let the freak flag fly to high. He's dealing with his own cheating crazy spouse and I'll be the first person to acknowledge the first fact of mental health, you can only stuff a finite amount of feces into your shit bag.

No guy wants to look around and muse under his breath "Sweet merciful Jesus, ALL the women around me are completly batshit insane!"

So I've done my best to seperate the skin from the bones when I bare my heart. It becomes a narrative that I'm able to tell, a story of some other woman and her terrible life. I can get through it all and not let a tear fall, I only sigh a few times, and eventually, when I reach the end, I can stop and smile. "So, what's new in your life?"

But yesterday as we talked about life, the universe, and garage sales I told him about my weekend of gestalt therapy in the garage. The horrible magic of picking up an object and being transported to the very time and place of its use; the hands that used to hold it, the hands that did so many things, so many bad and awful things...spiral...spiral...spiral.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Funnily enough, I didn't get the response that I've been accustomed to over the last seventeen years with STBX. "Yeah, that sucks." "You think THAT'S bad? Well, one time I..." And any other variation on the theme.

Instead, he listened. He asked questions. He cajoled. He complimented. He then left me feeling better at the end of the conversation.

And thankfully, he didn't seem to think I was toooooo crazy. Of course, we were on the phone and thus he couldn't see that I had wrapped myself in aluminum foil, glued Marde Gras beads to my forehead, and had been snorting purple glitter for an hour.

I do, after all, have to keep SOME sort of mystery about myself.