Well, school started, so I've been too busy reading and writing my homework to think about journalling.  Ricky and I have had lots of discussions of porn and sex and my body and his body and women and men and...the gamut.  Somehow in all of this, and maybe the Prozac, I just don't feel like having sex.  I know Ricky is a good guy--I really do.  I wish I did feel like having sex, but I just don't.  Actually, it seems kind of revolting to me right now.  I got up the courage to talk to Plern about it, even though I half thought she'd tell me to stop wasting my time with a boy and find a good woman.  She didn't.  She actually listened and seemed sympathetic.  She told me after her mastectomy, she didn't feel like having sex for a long time.  She thinks it was part of her and her partner at the time breaking up.  I'm scared.  I don't want to lose Ricky--I don't know what I'd do without him.  But I can't imagine having sex with him ever again.  Wow--I didn't realize I felt that way until I just wrote it--that's intense!  It's so weird I don't know why.

I realized today that I've been too distracted in therapy to really focus on growing.  I just keep thinking about who my therapist is.  I want to find out more about her, but I don't want to be a wacko, or make her mad or scared and want to fire me.  I think I've decided to at least Google her and check around a bit on the internet to see what I can find out.  She never has to know.  Maybe if I find out more, I'll be able to focus on myself in therapy instead of her.  I know she's noticed, because she keeps telling me I seem far away and thinking about something I'm not talking about.  I hate that she can read my mind.  I love that she can read my mind.  If only she would read it and I wouldn't have to say anything because she'd already know.  I've decided.  I'm going to Google her!