teachers teaching, the doctors diagnosing me.

It's been a while again. Let's do a little update. I'd like to do a more useful post, but my brain is on a non-stop vacation, so don't expect anything.
Talking about vacation. Not only my brain is on vacation. I have two weeks off at work and you know about my travel planning struggles.
After some days (weeks!) of frustration and tears I decided to ignore my friend in London (love ya!) and travel to Rotterdam and Amsterdam instead. That's the plan. It's going to happen. Keep all your fingers crossed that I won't lose my mind up there. I've recently became a speicalist in mental break downs and freak outs. Yelling at refrigerators and smashing umbrellas all included. It's a whole new level of crazy. But don't worry, my therapist is a specialist too. And (more or less) kicked me out of therapy last session.
What? Things like these don't happen. That's what I thought. But that's what actually happens in my life. A therapy session nicely opened with a sentence like "I think we should stop".
It was weird. I sat there, nodded and listened.
It's okay. My therapist (or ex-therapist) is great. She simply realized that she wasn't the right person for my problems. She doesn't see herself as qualified enough do treat me. Kudos to her!
She made sure to get a better therapist and tomorrow is the time to figure out if it's true.
Maybe I'll get a new label to wear. Erase the bold "Depression" and make a subtitle out of it.
It's not important to have a label, but like my therapist said, it helps to find the right treatment and therapy. That said, I'm ready for therapist no.4 (hospital time not included).
To kill the time between those two therapists I made sure to get my very special therapy session at the internationally travelling singing therapist Ezra Furman.
Seriously, his concerts are like therapy. Only more fun and in a way that I wish they would never come to an end. He was wondering if the people in the audience were "normal", because he makes music for the outcast. There's no room for normal. The day of the dog will come and the sun will be high on that day.
I also bought some merch afterwards, which was the first time I really wanted merch. I usually don't care about it. What's the point of this whole merchandise business? I don't need a t-shirt, mug, poster or whatever of every person, movie or band I like. Same with signed stuff.
It took me a moment to decide that I wanted to buy a t-shirt and tote bag and it took me all the time I had to wait in line to decide whether I wanted any of it signed.
I decided to get the bag signed. No regrets. He didn't simply scribble his name on there, he also wrote "Carry good things" on it.
That's the way I like it.
Anyway. That's pretty much it.
It's all about being crazy in many different ways and trying to figure out how to stop being crazy.
Oh, and university is around the corner.
A lot of panic about that. I'm not ready. Not in the slightest.
The only thing I'm ready to accept is the lack of spare time. I can't wait for that part. Working two jobs isn't enough.
And don't tell me it's counterproductive. I already know that...


(I hope the style of this post doesn't confuse you too much. Ask the loved one, it could be worse...)