It's Because My Job is Making me Crazy with Last Minute Deadlines

Last night I had a dream that J and I were getting married.

The whole thing was completely disorganized and had been slapped together at the last minute. I remember that I kept saying to myself, "SHIT, if only I had had more time! I would have thought of this!" (This being any number of things from the dinner to the location to the invitations, and if I remember correctly, we'd been engaged for a while...or were embarrassingly stupid enough to think we could plan a wedding in a day?) I think the worst part was the invitations, which ended up being printed the day of, and even though the wedding was happening that evening, we were still using a laser printer at home so that "at least people would have something to remember it by." (Who? Since no one was invited...I don't know who was coming...)

My dress was something hideous that was borrowed at the last minute, and the ceremony+reception were being held in the basement of an old used bookstore (any poetic notions about that were blasted when I saw the cast iron spiral staircase with slap-shod blue carpeting that led down to the basement, which was equally dingy, leaky, and poorly lit).

The whole thing was a nightmare, but through everything, I just wanted to get it over with because the important part was that J and I were together - I didn't care about the wedding.

I woke up and went to therapy. Not only did I not get what I needed out of my session, but instead of deciding that my suggestion of once every other week was fine, we figured that in reality, I probably should ramp it up to twice a week (as if. Hello - I need to have a life, too. I can't just spend my life being in therapy and working my shitty day job, then recovering from therapy and my shitty day job every day). I left feeling like I kind of wished that I could go no times a week, hating that my therapist knows things about me that even I don't want to know about me. Yes, that is the point, thanks. I left kind of wanting to smack some hypothetical someone in the teeth.

I'm unreasonably angry with myself about being myself, and I'm also kind of pissed that I have to be at work non-stop for the next two days. This is why Wednesday is going to be a beach day. Unless it rains, in which case it will be screen print some arts for my walls day. Either way, by then I hope to no longer be hating myself.