Love dove bought me the rainbow quilt. I am most pleased. I have to plan his birthday. It's difficult and stressful and making me unhappy. I don't think I can do what I want to do with this, and well--I don't think he fucking cares. In fact, I get the idea he'd rather do something else with someone else, which makes me feel like shit. When I say someone else I mean anyone else, no one specific, just to be clear. He says he doesn't like plans or planning, but he sounds upset that I haven't made concrete plans. I suppose it's because he could do something better than spend time with me. After all, today he called it a waste. Thanks. My withering self-esteem needed that.
I really want to sit in therapy forever until everything else is clear to me. I have too many things to say. I can't afford to go once a week. I go every three. One hour every three weeks is not enough. I must have the guidance though. All the time I said I could do it alone. I had no idea what I was trying to do. I still don't.
My compulsions are getting worse and much more strange. Today I felt compelled to touch people's stomachs. I can't touch people's stomachs, so I felt a great deal of anxiety. Also, I had a very stressful twenty minutes at the post office. I can't figure out how to mail a fucking envelope because I'm apparently fucking stupid. And it was ultimately a waste of money. I should have sent more.
There is no moving forward.