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!