Another crap Monday. I know there are occasionally good Mondays, just that today wasn’t one of them. A gray cloud hung over my head today. It wasn’t easy to start the day that’s for sure. Nothing bad happened just a feeling in the pit of my stomach. A malaise if you will.

Having fled early on Friday I had no idea on what awaited me in the office. Turns out it was nothing really. Matt the temp is really a plus to the operation, at least my operation. And today he was needed since I certainly didn’t want to be there. I did find out the Persian Bitch was reprimanded and given an official warning which pissed her off. That happened after I left on Friday so it was probably a good thing that I wasn’t there since I am prone to gloating on occasion.

I did feel apart from most everyone at work today. Perhaps I was wearing my ennui on my sleeve. Dry cleaners have a difficult time removing stains and ennui must be a real tough one. Hard to see and easy to wear. Most people that know me can see how I feel from a mile away. Some can tell by the tone of voice I use over the phone. I can’t hide it, couldn’t if I tried.

But I got through the day. Perhaps what Bleedin’ Hope said was true. That would be a first. If they get rid of the Persian Bitch, they’ll have to get rid of me. I don’t see why, but that might be a possible scenario.

Tonight was also the wonderful world of couples counseling. I almost walked past the Library where I usually meet Bill since I hadn’t heard if he wanted to meet up beforehand. I took the initiative and called. Bill noticed my mood and didn’t pursue it much. He has a lot of things going on with him acting wise, so I just let him tell me all the things that were going on.

I walked alongside, silently puffing on a Padron. It was a nice night for a walk. I did want to go to St. Mark’s Place in my continuing hunt for Gauloises but since I asked if Bill had eaten, and he hadn’t we walked to the pizzeria around the block from Psych Central. I wasn’t hungry so I watched him wolf down a chicken pizza. We walked to Psych Central and sat in the waiting room. Bill closed his eyes, and I read the David Rakoff book that I have to return to the library tomorrow.

Philip Beansprout showed up and we wandered into our designated room. I sometimes think that Philip has his hands full with us since we usually go all over the map and Philip gets a look of exasperation on his face for a quick instant. My urge to satisfy sometimes makes me think if Bill and I are doing therapy the right way, playing by the rules. Time will tell I suppose.

I talked about my situation at work and the stress it’s been causing me. I don’t think it’s having an effect on our relationship. I don’t think Bill feels that it is. What came out of the session and that subject was that when Bill gets down about something, he shuts up and gets very introverted. Me, I talk about it. Sometimes not initially, but I do. And once I do I generally feel better. Good friends and family know that if you give me fifteen minutes I usually spill my guts. I’m sure I’d hold up under interrogation.

I told Philip about my lack of a college education and my disdain for formal education. I may be intelligent, but I don’t have the piece of paper that makes it official apparently. I also mentioned that I’m getting on in years (oh so ancient) and I’d like to find a job that I can ride out the rest of my life on in relative comfort.

Somehow we got on the subject of goals. I mentioned about this blog and my writing. Philip seemed interested. I told him about Lewis Lapham and what he had said, and how I enjoy writing, how I find it empowering.

Philip asked if there was money to be made through blogs. There are but that’s for a lot of people on the tippy top. I am off the map. Plus this is such a personal blog that it’s amazing that some people actually read it, but no. No money to be made right now through this. This is the art for the enjoyment of the six readers I know about. Or is it five?

It was a good meeting. I fucked things up though by taking Bill’s support and encouragement in a manner that hadn’t been seen in these parts of my head since the eighties. That means badly. No drama, just me shutting down. I can give Bill all the support and encouragement he might need, but man I can’t handle it when I get it return. Fucked up huh?

I’ve had many good friends through my life that have believed in me and my writing, quite a few of them doing this without ever reading anything that I’ve written. Bless them for they know not what they do. The return of my crippling self-doubt. Can’t say I’ve missed it, just plodding through with nary a thought about it.

So there’s an unease in the apartment tonight and it’s all from my not believing in myself. I just can’t see what other people see.

I feel that if I believe in myself, my ego would run rampant. And I don’t think that would be a good thing. I constantly knock myself down and pick myself up again. At least I pick myself up.

Crazy shit huh? I am grateful for the people in my life that have supported me and believed in me. I apologize for not taking your compliments better and thinking there was something wrong with you for believing in me. I’ll do better I promise.

Hang in there.

Thanks.