Who writes the scripts for your meds? I have abandoned therapy, really, and I am going to have to ask my primary care physician to write my psych scripts. I’m only on two, now, but my Seroquel dosage is very high.

Yes, I think that you would do well to look for a new therapist. I have trust issues and I will not tell the whole truth for 2+ years. I am also a bit of an intellectual elitist and I cannot abide a stupid therapist. I think - my opinion only - that you must allow a good therapist a degree of (I cannot think of a word!) guidance (?) over your treatment. An acknowledgment that your PhDs do not trump those of a psychologist nor the MD of a psychiatrist. An attitude that a therapist or shrink might know more than you about your mental state.

I was abused by my second shrink. I spent a few years feeling guilty and then another year full of rage. Hence the trust issues. One thing that I realized is that your t/pdoc can never, never be your friend. And I struggle, too, with the aforementioned knowledge of your mental state - when you say numb I respond, yes, yes and yes. But when I[ say numb to my pdoc/t and they ask me to explain what I mean, anger overcomes me and my inclination is to curse them and belittle them.

Hmm. Yeah, I have some anger issues, too.

But, yes, I think that if you can find a good t/pdoc and approach them in an appropriate and professional manner, acquiesce to their superior knowledge, and find a common playing field, then I think therapy can be most beneficial.

Ha! I remember the days when I would not leave my apartment to travel the 50-feet to my mailbox! I thank Cronus that those day are over: with Christmas coming my small mailbox is filled with catalogs; some from places that I have never heard of, much less shopped. And, from the places that I have shopped, I receive catalogs with hundreds of pages of hip gear... for women. Sundance (the Robert Redford catalog) has the models that most appeal to me and I have ordered gifts from them, thus the hundred-page catalog.

In 1973 I believed that I had invented a new term, a meme (if you follow Richard Dawkins), when I wrote “moral energy.” I was disappointed to find that the term had been usurped by theologians and new-agers. Nonetheless, I describe that great reluctance to get up from one’s arse to accomplish a worthwhile, necessary, or enjoyable goal, as “lacking moral energy.” “I can’t come to fix your computer, Tom; I simply do not have the moral energy to leave my apartment.” Tom waited over one year before I travelled the three floors to fix his computer. I found him dead on his bed.

Now, wouldn’t you feel shitey if you summoned the moral energy to saddle up only to find one - or both - of your horses dead?

“Moral energy” baffles me more than “dark energy.” The latter can be posited by that which we do not see. The former - golly! - well, it cannot be observed, either, but I believe that it is exchanged, shared, bartered, what-have-you, by human touch. I believe that, one day, moral energy will be measured and that it will be found in abundance after kissing babies or making love and that it will only dip by one-quarter bar (‘bar’ being the unit of measure) with a hug or a handshake.

Grab some moral energy and ride. Walk or canter. Gallop if you’ve the space.

Space. A better space. A space to allow someone else to examine your head. Space that allows you to gallop. Oh, I could word-f**k all day but my caregiver will be here in 42 minutes and the security system tech should be here shortly. And so I will, adieu!