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2002-04-20 | 8:45 a.m.

The past couple of days haven't been so great for me. I'm feeling down. Haven't even washed my hair in four days----can't quite convince myself to do it somehow. (Today I will, I swear.)

Were you aware that if you don't wash your hair for several days, it starts to look clean again? When I was young and washed my hair at least once a day, I imagined it just kept getting greasier until it would eventually look as if you had spread Vaseline throughout your hair. Which is actually something I've done, on a youthful whim, and do NOT recommend. Take it from me, it is extremely difficult to wash Vaseline out of your hair.

I've begun the process of trying to find a therapist. Sometimes I imagine myself talking to this as-yet imaginary individual. Defensively. I am wary of what kind of therapist I might dig up around here, in Loserville. And I need to find someone who's in the network. So far the two I've been hopeful about were outside the network. I would only have to pay 20 percent for an out-of-network provider but with money so tight I'd rather try harder to find someone in the network.

Last night I was having a lot of dark thoughts. I am grateful, if nothing else, to realize that my darkest impulses focus inwardly. I'm no Andrea Yates or Susan Smith. For someone in that place, the way to do it is to just walk away. You know people do it all the time but it doesn't end up in the newspaper. Because it is a non-violent action, to walk away. Sure, it hurts other people, but better to leave emotional scars than to drown them in the bathtub. Just pack up your suitcase and smile while your heart is breaking. Don't forget your birth certificate; you might need it.

In my case, it is not the children I am anxious to leave. No, that's why I stay. It's the whole thing I can't stand. I'm sure most people would find my life a cakewalk, but I don't. I feel that I am up to my ears in obligations and responsibilities, things going missing, important pieces of paper, phone calls one right after the other, things to look up, three meals a day every damn day, clothes, uniforms, socks, shoes, hats, snacks, homework, permission slips, pre-registration, taxes, assignments, things I volunteered to do but no longer have the energy for, gas, groceries, laundry, broken this, spilled that, bickering and accusations. The high, spiraling wail of a six-year-old girl who isn't getting her way. On top of that, put all the things I'm not doing, which mean so much to me, my lack of accomplishments, and my complete inertia----my inability to do what's best for myself (because I *do* know), and I'm ready to clock out. I think about that suitcase, and how I ought to have it packed and ready to go at all times. Get it all ready to go and keep it handy.

Okay, I'm going to take my shower now.

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