Therapy session number two went ok. Why just ok? Well, the therapist was ten minutes late for a session with someone who demands professional appointments happen on time. ON TIME. Way to set up an automatic roadblock, lady! Oh, but she ended it on time. Is she testing me? Is it in the therapist/patient handbook to make the patient want to tackle the therapist for ripping her out of ten minutes? BASTARDS! Aside from a slow start...she came up with the conclusion that I expect too much from myself. That I guilt myself because I cannot accomplish unreasonable goals.
Hi, new readers, without reading so much as maybe one or two of my posts -- you could have come to that conclusion.
Anyway, I leave the office with a little bit (very little bit) of a different perspective, so it's still a win. I get in my car, and pull out of my space. A truck makes a wide turn into the parking lot. Instead of my standard glare, I just pulled my car over further and was on my way.
I don't want to piss off the crazies.
I know I'm the only normal person who would ever be parked in that lot, and I have to be the bigger person or else Mr. Wide Turn would leap out of his truck and undo 4 years of anger management therapy on my face. Be nicey nicey...
I pulled out onto the road and got a feeling. A gut feeling. I normally get gut feelings when I meet people (hello, mister, I know you touch little boys in your free time...getthefuckawayfromme), but I get really edgy when I get the feeling and don't know why.
-- I am not claiming psychic powers or anything like that so move your cursor slowly away from the close button on this window and hear me out. --
I just felt unsafe. Not 100 feet from where I turned out on the lot - two cars bumped coming the other direction and pulled into the gas station to assess the damage.
10 and 2...10 and 2...10 and 2
The gut feeling didn't go away.
I pull up to a light in the left turn lane, and the door of a van 2 cars ahead of me OPENS. The light was green. The woman gets out just as the car in front of me starts backing up! She looks at her bumper, sneers at the driver who obviously just gave her a love tap, and gets back into her car.
Two bumps in less than one minute!
I was not ok. I still have to go pick up Babygirl from daycare and get the hell home.
I want to call my husband to report the oddity, but know that I cannot risk taking my eyes off the road, and other drivers, and pedestrians, and ... the feeling disappears.
I 10-and-2ed it to the daycare, got Babygirl and got home as fast as I could.
Call it what you want, but I once again my gut was right.