Why Am I Telling You All This?

I follow a guy that writes about his conversations with people he meets at coffee houses around the world. (Supposedly, I think he is at the local coffee house but what do I know?) This guy was a shrink or therapist in another life time. People tell him the strangest and most personal stories. It is so much easier to tell your stories to someone who doesn’t know you and their judgement will not be tainted by knowing your previous mistakes. It’s like a release. Things that you have held inside for so long. To finally be able to exhale. My best friend was my Dr. B. So what he got paid, after insurance payments, for talking to me? We could talk about anything and Dr. B knew a little bit about everything I brought up. I think Dr. B liked me. Not in that way! Maybe he found me fascinating. He told me that I had a wicked sense of humor. I think he thought I was smart. I was having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that I was “mentally ill.” That my I.Q. was above average. He told him that it had nothing to do with my I.Q., as a matter of fact, he told me that quite a few geniuses were bi-polar. Like John Nash. Pulitzer Prize Winner. He told me that I wasn’t what you would call mentally ill. That I didn’t have a personality disorder, but that my illness was a chemical imbalance in my brain, just like diabetes and that I would have to take medicine for the rest of my life. There is no cure for personality disorder. You are just an asshole for life. If I didn’t take my medicine, I know I would be dead by now. Seriously. Some times people like unburdening themselves. Kinda like the Catholic Confession Booth. They get paid for talking to you too. Think collection plate. But, again I digress. Back to the coffee houses. I use to hang out at the coffee shop. Not his coffee house. I don’t think, but then again, you never know. I liked the coffee house because I like talking to different people. One thing I think is people are lonely. You may have a full house at home, but you are still lonely. It’s a way for people who don’t drink to gather and mingle. And a lot quiter. You can actually talk to one another. I like the coffee shop atmosphere. They have what my granddaughter and I describe as cozy chairs. They have a patio where you can sit outside. And I can carry my granddaughter. There are no drunks. I don’t like drunks and I do not drink. The stuff smells and tastes like crap-ola. I gag, spit and throw up. Now, I don’t have to go to the coffee shop and talk to different people. I can sit here and have my eletronical coffee shop. Another person I know that should write a blog is my old hairdresser. I would sit in his chair and tell him about my personal problems. He told me that you would be surprised at the things customers told him. Especially when the husband and wife both come. Seperately. I have my cup of coffee sitting right next to me, so why don’t you tell me your story?


About 1wanderingtruthseeker

I'm a fiftish woman that has opinions and passions about nearly everything under the sun. I love a good debate, not name calling. I believe in the Constitution , the Bill of Rights and God. I believe the government which governs the least is the best government of all. I believe in the rights of the people. I dispatched fire trucks, the Po-Po and ambulances for a long time so I have a wicked sense of dark humor and speak fluent sarcasm. I think out loud a lot times. I am offensive. But I'm offensive of everybody. Socially unacceptable, plain spoken and unashamed. If you don't want to be offend, please don't read and if you do, please consider that I'm not politically correct in any sense of the word.
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