Uhhhhhhhh. . .

I have T this afternoon at 5pm. I am bouncing off the walls already at 7:30, freaking a bit about this afternoon. We talked yesterday after I got home from work (and after I'd called and tried to reschedule for next week sometime) and he suggested I bring something that brings me comfort. Uh, what? What brings me comfort? I have no idea what brings me comfort, you know? He said to wear something comfortable, and I told him it doesn't matter WHAT I'm wearing, b/c I'm going to feel naked. He suggested THAT would be quite the scene.

I know where we are going today. We have been dancing around it for a few weeks now. . .he even told me he wants to "further explore" this area and the subjective lowered resistance of "the couch" should provide us a good opportunity for that. Greeeeeeeaaaaaaaat. Lovely. Wonder-fricking-ful. I'm . . .well, i don't know if it's fear or what it is. . .but going into this place is worse than needing to throw up, going through labor, and having broken bones. Ugh. It's NOT something I want to do. He seems to be convinced that I need to "say the words" and I suppose to a degree he's right. He's been right so far anyway. . . the memory seems to loose a little power once I speak it aloud. . .it's like, "oh, that's ALL there is to that." I don't know.

Why do I feel so broken an busted?