Starting to feel pretty sure going to therapy is like playing with a Ouija board, in which whatever entity has pissed you off so bad that spending $140 cash money to bitch to a stranger seems like a reasonable option, is drawn back into your realm.   Before therapy, I was reasonably unpestered by the excommunicated relative (ER).  Like,  months on end of peaceful non-contact. Since I’ve started therapy, ER has changed his email (thus eluding my spam folder) and forwarded chain letters.

They say stuff like, “FORWARD if you LOVE GOD, Don’t FORWARD if you HATE America!”

Which always kind of makes me laugh, because I like to think this person is so stupid he believes the power of the forwarded chain mail will force me to do his bidding.  This dipshit is dead to me, but I must obey the chain mail for fear of heavenly retribution.  Oh noes.  He wins, I guess.  Nope, wait.  Spam folder.

His spouse apparently butt dialed me and left a long message on my voice mail of butt-muffled conversation.

His spouse sent a bunch of toys to my kids, via a mutual friend.  I told the friend I didn’t want them, but friend ‘forgot’ them when she left.  Which I kind of think was an honest mistake, but is annoying because now I have to deal with it the extra step of dumping cootie-covered ass box at a donation center.

ER & Spouse have some travel plans that super coincidentally put them in the same town as us on a couple separate occasions.

So I dunno.  Am quite happy to freeze them out forever or until they give up, but it takes a surprising amount of energy to have them intruding into my space.  And, it feels like I called them in by talking about them in therapy, which I know that sounds crazy, but generally, my jimmies are rustled and I can’t quite get soothed these days.  So here are some tunes I like because I will create my own safe place, damn it, just like my therapist says I can.  And here it is.

 

NSFW video, butt