The only way is fuck it

It’s been a good day.
The sun is out.
The stereo has been cranked up to, … well, not 11, but a good 8.5 … with classic disco, 90s symth pop and rave.

All the traffic lights were at green and the queues of cars parted like the red sea.
I booked an apointment with a counsellor.
Both cakes have turned out well. (OK, the Victoria sponge took considerably longer to cook than it should have, and has sunk in the middle a bit, but it’s still eminently passable.)
One of my least worn and most outrageous pairs of pantsUK came out of winter storage.
I’ve been productive nearly all day.
I even managed to do one of those things that everyone, myself included, thinks is impossible.
It’s been a good day.

I know it won’t last. The latter part of the day will decline progressively, both when I turn into Taxi-Dad, and when my Wife gets home.
But it has been a good day.

Oh.
Yeah.
That bit I kind of glossed over.
The counsellor bit.
Well … y’know … [shrugs] … fuck it! What is there to loose?

Yesterday I browsed through a list of profiles on a counsellors’ diretory website. It was a little bit like Tinder as I dismissed various practicioners purely on the basis of their photos. Hey, sometimes you don’t need to speak to someone to be reasonably sure you’re going to be on completely different wavelengths. It’s shallow, but hey … [shrugs] … I read a few profiles, clicked my way through a couple of exteranl links, made a largely arbitrary choice, sent an email …
And it felt ok.
It didn’t feel adversarial, or transactional, or defiant, or any of the other things it could have felt.
It just felt ok.

This morning I took a phone call from the counsellor, and we had a chat about what I feel I need, or something equally nebulous.

And next week I have an appointment.

I don’t specifically expect to get anything from the process, though I realise that has the potential to be a self fulfilling prophecy. I’ve been upfront about that. But with a bit of digging, I’m sure there is no shortage of stuff we can deconstruct. Endlessly. Both personal and relationship.
Could I sit downing solitude, contemplate my naval, and come up with the same answers? Possibly.
But y’know what … fuck it.
What harm can it do.
Oddly, I’m almost looking forward to the process.

One Response to “The only way is fuck it”

  1. Good for you!

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