OK. Now breathe.
Yesterday I was talking with the nurse again. Alone. And I'm... Well, I think it's hard to talk about the whole gay issue (because it is now) in Norwegian. The words seem wrong, nothing really fit with my thoughts, and everything's just wrong. Which sucks. Big time. And I have no idea what to do.
So we talked for about 45 min (which is crazy long). Discussing everything, I guess. But it was like I didn't knew what to say because I didn't quite knew how I feel at the moment. So I kind of ended up pulling out a lot of shit, and blah... This is probably the first time I'm not quite sure how to express myself at all; The language(s), the words, the meanings, the feelings. Nothing's working right now concerning words. Not even written.
But still: I definitely see that I'm happier now than two weeks ago. So even though my thoughts are going crazy in my head, I've talked about it. And I see that writing can help, but talking in general can help more. Because for me it's way more personal to say something than writing something (even though I put my soul into my writing).
What scares me the most is if the nurse doesn't take me seriously (but I think she does). No, I have no idea what she can really do to help me. I don't see any solution. But somehow it is helping. Just getting everything out.
What is bad about this talking thing (except the fact that I'm lost in the world of words) is that I don't really know why I ended up at the nurse's office in the first place. No, I'm not happy with my life. I don't like to be gay. I'm scared. But is that the key to happiness? To not be scared anymore? To fully accept the fact that I'm gay? Will I see the good sides of life then? Or is it something else?
There might be something else. I've had some struggles in my life. But who hasn't? Why am I the sad girl, not someone else? Why am I in the emotional cellar?
All I want is to find out what's going on. Yes, I have been psychoanalyzing myself quite a few times (social heritage, don't blame me), but I can't find the root to this mess.
Blah. Self-psychoanalyzing sucks. Especially when it's me about me. Any idea what to do? What to say? I guess she thinks (or that's what my friend and I told her) it's all about the gay thing. Honestly, I don't know.
Anyway, she talked about sending me to this guy named Fredrik. I think he's a shrink or something. Psychologist. Can I say I hope she does? Because I do.
As said before: Shrinks and psychologists should not have kids. Or at least not with each other. Because they're crazy.