The First Entry

Sunday

My therapist said I should keep a diary. I feel like some middle school girl here writing into this thing like I should be telling it all my secrets, afraid of my parents reading it and finding out about my secret crush. It's just embarrassing. I mean, I get what he wants me to do here. And it's like talking to myself, but I do that anyway.

So the goal for today WAS supposed to be to write out why I am doing this. Hello, my name is David. I am 30 years old, I was married and it ended very badly. I struggled to find a way to trust people. I struggled worse with interacting with people. This is ironic because in my job I constantly talk to people. The therapist says this is because I am used to wearing masks and when it comes to being myself I am lost. I have so many personalities I struggle to find the one that is "me".

I have a cat named Nicodemus. He is this alley cat I rescued at probably a week old. He had no mom other than me and because of it he has absolutely no idea he is feline. You might say he is the closest thing I have to anything resembling children.

A few months ago, at my therapist's insistence, I moved into my own place. I had been staying at friends' houses like some loser. To be honest it was cathartic to couch surf for a few months. You really find yourself when you're living in spare rooms and on couches. I think the longest stay was a few months in a family friend R.V. on their lake property. It was serene but boating season came back and I moved out. My staying there helped make sure the place was liveable when it was time to go back to the lake.

So here I am, sitting in a chair in my living room, trying to find some comfortable position to write in. I should have used the table but I was afraid of pulling the chair across the floor would have woken my roommate up.

That's the other thing. Thankfully my therapist never reads these because I was supposed to live alone but the economy has gone wacky and while I am a teacher I dont make exactly enough to live like normal people. That and my Ex destroyed my credit score so nicer, cheaper places meant I needed a roommate or a co-signer.

Just in time, my cousin was just coming off a lease somewhere else so we decided to share a place. It's okay because we shared a home as kids. My mom is her aunt and raised her because her parents were renaissance fair actors, or rennies as they are called on the circuit.

Well, I am going to put this down for now. I will put another entry in later when I have more news or some amazing breakthrough.

David

(am I even supposed to sign my own journal. what a dork I am)