Tuesday 11/23 and Wednesday 11/24

 I slept in Tuesday. Monday night I was the only one running dishes and I eas tired.

I wrote little for the blog. Instead, I spent some time publicizing the blog, specifically my post on cutting carbon. Maybe I can kill two birds with one stone: put an idea for action into someone's head and get me some visitors.

I fixed lunch in the room. I got cleaned up for meeting my sex offender counselor. I got in my work clothes. The appointment was for 2:45pm and I thought I could catch a bus back downtown and then the bus to work. Things did not quite work out.

I missed the 1:15 bus. No problem, that was not the planned bus but a spur of the moment choice. Thing was the 1:45 Whitely bus did not show. This was a first for Muncie. Thing was I didn't have time to catch the Mall bus. I did not have the money for a taxi - the savings are shot and pay day was on Wednesday. So, I rode a bike halfway across Muncie.

There I was pedalling my way across Broadway, around the back of the Muncie Mall, along McGalliard (sure I would die there, one street i never liked to drive), and behind Northwest Plaza to the place on Royale. I was glad I had my inhaler. I was early. Thing was I stopped first at the wrong address.

Our first encounter was not good. She ordered the bike out of her office. Then she ordered it out of the building. She suggested I put the bike in the back. I was more than a bit out of breath and irritated by that and her tone. She was not quelling my doubts about her. I had worries about mixing the bike with the bus. (The Muncie buses have bike carriers mounted on their fronts.) Now I wondered if it would get stolen (which would relieve me of one worry but since E gave me the bike, I worried even more about it being stolen). I did as directed. The bike was not stolen.

She gave me paperwork. The waiting room was very hot. My breathing mushave been sounding pretty bad because she left the person she was with to see if I was all right. That surprised me. I must say my cough that has persisted the past few days stopped while I was on the bus.

She and I went over the paperwork. I talked too much, which seems my norm nowadays. Used to be I kept everything to myself until it ate me up.  My sister doesn't like this. I think I have learned  lesson from my past. This journal is both a recognition that too much silence never helped me and a tool to keep me from going silent again. I do not think she was particularly impressed with me.

I told her my story. That I wanted to get caught so I would have no choice but suicide. She told me that getting caught with the Muncie crackheads would not read lead to me losing my license but treatment. I disagreed and pointed out it would kill my practice. I was using visiting a common nuisance as an example I failed to point out possession of cocaine and/or paraphernalia were felonies. 

She kept probing about me being attracted to under age flesh. I told her I was not. She didn't believe. No surprise there. If I hadn't lived through it, I wouldn't believe me. I was slightly miffed that she didn't think I could come up with a better lie. In the end, she is setting me up eith two polygraphs. I flunk either one it will mean I am not cooperating eith treatment, a violation of my supervised release order, and a return trip to Fort Dix. I told that was acceptable. If I am lying then I am lying to myself to the point of absolute delusion and should be back in prison. I think if I were truly the fiend presumed by all these proceedings, I would have tried harder at suicide.

She came down on me when we were talking about my getting any counselingr at Fort Dix. I said, Let me educate you. She shot back and being educated (she has a M.A.and some other letters after name, but not Ph.d) and how she might have been in prison and that I did not know she had not been in prison. I accepted her objection and noted she had not been in Fort Dix FCI with me. She accepted my statement.

I will be seeing her again. She also wants me to see someone for my depression. That is all good. I will lose my internet access if i prove myself the pervert they expect.

On the whole, she left me feeling better about the counseling. I need not for her to like me, I need her to be competent. I feel she is that. These notes, all this self-examination I have put myself through, may not be sufficient. It will be good to have a professional acting professionally.

She did let me know I may not be able to work with teens. She suggested factory work. The way my current job is beating me up, I am not sure I am up to a factory job. (Which reminds me right how silent has been Social Security.) But she says the pay is $20.00 an hour. That tempts me.

I gave her the url for this blog. She might as well see what I have been doing.

Something I learned, a true surprise, was how emotional I got speaking about how I did not want to back to the days of my despondency. I never knew just how scared I am of losing my lucidity.

I walked to work talking to DM on my phone. I told him about the counselling session and he told me what he thought of my post on renewable energy. I spoke with the manager about day shift and was told they were working on it. This now looks likely to solve several problems. I was the only runner working and did not get home until midnight. 

Wednesday, I slept in again. I ate breakfast, planned the rest of the day. Of what I planned, I got little done. I did one job interview. In light of what the counselor told me, I passed on Fazoli's. The email has piled up. I did get a couple of posts done. I am closing in on my goal of 500. 

I shopped for groceries at Fresh Thyme where I got the shock of pastrami for $18 a pound. 

I chose to pass on laundry. It was late, it was cold, and I wanted to get back home. I ate dinner. Then I fell asleep for about 4 hours. My hands ached. I lollygagged for an hour with the TV before heading down to McClures for Coca-Cola. I came back here to start on this post.

My sister arrives in 13 hours. I need to sleep. My day is done. So is this post.

sch