F it

Sometimes some days are just so bad. lah.

Actually things are not that bad but you can't seem to get out of a Funk.

and you're just irritable and pissed off with everyone and everything.

days when even your therapist has had enough of you.

and you can't seem to be able to sort things out even if you try.

and then i think about my clients whose lives are 100,000 times worse than mine and i feel guilty.

I can't even feel pissed off because i have no right to be annoyed at my life which has food, shelter and opportunity. Feeling wretched is now a luxury. Bloody hell.

Also keep getting nightmares about my clients in prison. I had mild diarrhoea i had dreams about my clients who told me he had blood in his urine and kept throwing up in front of me.

wonder what its like to be in prison with people who wished you would just die maybe then there would be less overcrowding. where you could crap blood and still no one would care.

i saw a transexual from a country in the middle east the other day. She was really quite lovely. She couldn't stop crying though when she told me that the male guards made her take off her blouse so they could check out her boob job, which she got done in Thailand.

She spoke and spoke and spoke and spoke. Told me how after her operation she presented herself to her father and he said to her " I no longer have a child". So she went up to the rooftop of her house to throw herself over, but chickened out.

Told me of how she had only one friend in her 22 years of life, who was also another transexual. of how her friend was getting married and that she herself had never had a boyfriend. how she was secretly in love with her neighbour, watching him grow into the man she wanted so desperately. of how she wrote him secret anonymous letters and lived for the moments where he would actually confide in her about the letters and what he felt, not knowing it was her who sent them. of how she had a telephone relationship with a man and how she kept telling him no each time he wanted to meet her. He told her she sounded like she was beautiful, and "that made me feel nice". Then she said "but if he saw me, he wouldnt say that anymore".

And which point myself and even the homophobic male interpreter just had to stop and do an Aguilera. We said" You ARE beautiful." (and stopped short of "no matter what they say, words can't bring you down").

So really, when i see so much misery, how can i ever find currency in my stupid, piddly, inconsequential issues.

But I went up anyway to my dad last night and asked him to stroke my head. i told him it was to relieve my stress. He laughed and said "that's an easy solution".

So there he was with his kain pelekat and the newspapers and me flopped over the kitchen table, stroking my hair, telling me there was no need to be sad when there was so much to be happy about.

The only man who will ever love me unconditionally, my dad.