beams

I'm a might partial to it. My hair is just barely long enough to put up and fluff a little to show off the tiara. I'm worried if I cut my hair short again, the tiara won't have the same effect. But then, new tiara, right? I love that word, can you tell?

ION, my daughter's cat set my laptop to hibernate while I was down in the laundry room. That's a scary cat.

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Maybe the fact that I forgot to mention this is just further illustration of how right it is:

Yesterday was my last therapy appointment. (And prior to yesterday, my most recent appt. was 2 months ago -- we had decided to space them out really widely b/c I seemed to actually be dealing with things like a more-or-less normal human.)

I'm done with therapy. And I can tell a difference between current!Teppy and craxy!pre-therapy!Teppy of 2 years ago. In a big way. I'm not fixed, by any means, and I'm still mad as a hatter, but I never intended for that particular craxiness to be "fixed," as I don't think it can be, and, in truth, I believe that it doesn't need to be.

But what's different now is how much more my sense of security is rooted in *me,* versus trying to get it from other people/my job/money/anything outside me. Because when I tried to get security from any source outside of me, I had no boundaries to speak of; it was so all-consumingly important to me to get that security that I would do anything if I thought it would help me in that pursuit. I'd change my beliefs to please people; I wouldn't speak up and call bullshit when bullshit arose; I'd do everything within my power to try to get people to love me, even if that meant doing things that were contrary to my own nature.

Security is still of paramount importance to me, make no mistake. And that's an issue we covered in therapy -- the whys and wherefores of my need for security -- but now I have a much better sense of....*trust* in myself, I suppose. Trust that *I* know what I need better than anyone else does, and that I'm able to meet those needs myself.

Don't get me wrong; I'm still fucked-up. I swing back to seeking security from other people all the damn time. But the difference now is that I recognize it, and I can halt it, and then figure out how *I* can meet my needs.

It's kinda cool.

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Way more than kinda, Tep. That's really wonderful.

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Teppy, that is very, very cool. Congratulations!

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Tep that's fantastic!!!!

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So my niece put together, on the fly, this whole RPS fanfic about me coaching Johnny Depp in swordfighting for the next PotC movie, and Orlando Bloom bandaging and soothing my bescarred brow afterward.

I'm touched. And strangely proud.

Right there with you, Calli...

I don't want to chance him falling asleep on me, and I'm not quite rude enough to be all "Begone! Come and GO, dude!"

There has got to be a nice enough polite way of saying this.

Guinea Pig is made of pomegranate juice, a splash of lime, vodka, and seltzer with lime. Basically, whatever was handy. Dubbed by me handing one to Sam and shouting "Guinea Pig! Guinea Pig!".

Nummy.

((Aim))

That is great, Tep!

Off to Press now...

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{{Aimee}}

Health-ma to your grandpa

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Oh I LOVE those pictures. The Kat/ita onesie is too adorable for words.

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Random news: I find arrogance in people who aren't me very irritating.

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Teppy I am so proud of you.

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