“There is no ‘I’ in ‘TEAM'” – said everybody, at some point.

Oh, teamwork. What does it mean to you? I think sometimes it means helping someone who you have no reason to help for the sake of the client. Helping someone who would throw you under a lying bus because you know it is the right thing to do and that it is your job to do so.


I am trying to be better

Two weeks ago, I asked you an important question. I asked you to accompany me to my psychologist. Not for couples’ therapy. Not for you. But for you to be candid with him about me. To help him gain a deeper, more rounded look at my personality, my habits, my issues. I did not know yet whether I would be present while you talked with him or not. That was a risk I took. How difficult it would be to be there and not interject! Or become defensive!

You said yes. I was happy that you said yes right away. That you would do that for me. Take the time off to do this. Granted, it would not be you bearing your soul, but you enlightening him to mine. (too poetic-fix) But it meant a lot to me that you would set time aside for me –  especially in the middle of the week.

I confirmed with you that weekend. And the week after. And several more times since that Wednesday night. So many times that I think you might have been annoyed. I felt annoying. But I wanted the assurance that you would be there. I looked forward to it. Seeing you. Gaining insight. Maybe even getting to have a mediated discussion. On neutral ground. Anyway.

I confirmed, yet again, with you last night.

Then, this afternoon, as your designated “work day” was winding down, I reminded you that the appointment was at 5pm. You asked me if it was too late to cancel it. I was thrown. I could not believe that you waited until NOW, mere hours before, to say that you were not going to make it. I could not believe that this was happening again. You said it would be “really difficult” to make it down but that you would. You said you would “appreciate” it if we could reschedule.

Money-wise? I could not reschedule without a fee. I could book an extra appointment but would end up paying for three sessions in one month instead of two. But all that aside. That does not actually matter to me.

What matters was you going back on the commitment you made to me. It boils down to you being a reliable partner. A dependable friend. You saying you are going to do something and doing it. I know work is demanding. I know this week especially because of elections. But two weeks ago you said you would tell F that you needed the evening off. Two weeks ago, you gave your word you could come through. I am frustrated. I am hurt. I am frustrated and hurt because I have to continue to make these accommodations for your work schedule. You need to drop me for work? No problem. You need to drop (or reschedule) work? No way. I do not feel as if your commitments to me have any weight. I trust you to come through. And you disappoint me and expect me to understand. I do not think you understand. I do not think you see that I really do not ask you for much. But what I do ask you for, you do not or will not give me. I am not trying to make you out as a bad guy. I am trying to be open and honest. You know me. You know how I feel and how upset I could be. But you know what? I will let you do what you need to do. But it is not okay at all.


resentment |riˈzentmənt| noun

         bitter indignation at having been treated unfairly

OK. What we have then are: bitter, indignant, treatment, unfair. Explore each element. Discuss.

Am I bitter? Probably. I still hold that hurt in my heart, in my head. The problem isn’t that I held you responsible for that hurt. It’s that I still do. That I can still draw up my anger and the tears over what happened between us is a testament to that.

Am I indignant? If I said yes to bitter, then yes to this.

Treatment. Important to note if only because it signifies that I feel something has been (or was) done to me. The past tense is significant.

Unfair. Without a doubt, I feel that what happened was unfair to me. That has been acknowledged.

I was about to write that resentment does not remain important if the object of resentment leaves our lives. But I just decided that is not true. The resentment is its legacy. And continues to hurt us even after we have forgotten what caused it in the first place.

The resentment I have towards men stems from the hurt and anger at Peter and Cameron that I never let go of. The resentment I have towards my own weaknesses come from the annoyance and anger I felt towards Ben.

The resentment I have towards you…it is the hurt I felt when you broke up with me with no reason that I could understand. That you could not even explain it to me in a satisfying way. That you did not want to try. The three times we went through it. I have that anger. I have that hurt that I continue to harbor and feed. The fear that it will happen again. The constant anxiety that this could all fall apart. I hold you responsible for it.

I did not fully understand what you meant about “playing the victim”. I am beginning to now. I do not want to take responsibility for this hurt and anger. If I do not take responsibility then I do not have to put the work in to fix it. I can live my life and just blame you.

How do I release us from this resentment? How do I clean this slate?

I have to see that the past can not be changed. The past is in the past and it needs to stay there. Yesterday is set in history. And if I live in yesterday I will never go anywhere.

Is it really that simple?

In theory, yes. In practice, never.

If I can not find a way to do this, then there is no way that you and I can be together. We will never be happy. My behavior and attitude will never allow it. And this is as simple as that.

So, decide. Decide. Decide what you are going to do, Rachele. Are you going to actually let go?

Bad, bad, bad

Sometimes, I visualize bad things happening to me. And worse, I wish that they would happen. I do not want to die. Rarely do I die in these imaginings. They range from fights to car accidents, to violent hold ups, to rapes to serious illness. Is this a cry for attention? Or is it that I feel that my depression, anxiety and overall malaise are not justified? That if something terrible would just happen to me, these feelings would be ok for me to experience.  Or is it that I see how your attention goes to those in need? That when others are experiencing hardship, you feel a sense of urgency. That I never really need you. I just want you.

You said once that you liked that I was strong. I feel that you respect that. Strength, capability, self-reliance.

Do I want weakness more than strength? Which is more important? For me to have your attention, for you to feel that you have to take care of me, be at my side? Or for me to have your respect, for you to feel that I can take care of myself, to want to be at my side, rather than have to be?

I do feel that sometimes I get pushed to the side when there are “more” important and urgent things happening. Things with deadlines. People who have lost their jobs. People who are going through divorces. People who are sick. I can wait. My daily issues that aren’t really anything, they can wait. You’re tired. You’re overworked. You’re stretched thin. Where do I fit in? Do I fit in at all?

The question becomes: would I fit in if something really bad happened to me? If I needed you like they do?

The question becomes: would it be okay to be depressed and anxious and upset if something really bad happened to me?

The question that follows: do you really matter in this equation? Would this be the same no matter who I was talking about? If you were X instead of A? Is it all really just my judgment of myself?

Dream from 4/12

You shot me with a gun.

Six times in the abdomen. In 3 rows of 2. Once in the arm and once in the leg. All on the right side of my body.

In the woods. It was autumn. Colorful leaves all over the ground. Trees.

You caught up to me. Helped me. Sat me down. Put me in a car.

You drove to a small cafe with a red awning and red umbrellas outside. French restaurant. In France.

Oysters were ordered. On ice. With lemon and some hot sauce. Chef came out to talk to us. I could not walk. No one commented on my gunshot wounds.

Kept losing the conversation. Staring at the river next to the tables with umbrellas. Oysters were slimy. No taste.

I left. Walked away. You followed.

I sat at the base of a tree. On grass. To die.

sometimes i hate all the feelings i have when i talk to you

why do i feel like youre ashamed of me. we don’t hang out with your friends. you hang out with them, a couple, and “their friend and her husband and their baby” or whatever. and you ignore me. you could probably bring some other girl and no one would fucking know. because no one has ever fucking met me.

you always hang up abruptly. why? are you getting another call from someone more important.

you hang up and don’t care about what the hell i’m going through.

you want understanding but don’t try to give it.

you aren’t interested in my day. i mention something and you don’t care enough to ask about it.

“intense” you don’t like things that are inconvenient for you.

you don’t even care to ask about anything.

i’ll say it again.. i ask questions because you don’t volunteer any information.

a simple heads up helps.

but you can’t even do that. simple fucking things i ask you for.

who knows what the fuck is going on.

you don’t give a shit about helping me.

i try to help you and it blows up in my face.

fuck you.

i hate this.

i hate that i feel all these things with you.

i want to not give a shit too.

i hate that you don’t listen.

i hate that you don’t care.

i hate that everything you say sounds like a fucking script and forced.

i hate forcing you to say nice things.

i hate that you don’t want to do those things naturally.

it’s not just me. and it’s not something everyone goes through.

i hate your vagueness.

it’s not okay.

you have to change too.

and if you don’t grow into a bigger person then fuck you.

i won’t be the only one that changes.

that’s not fucking fair.

don’t act all fucking better than me.

i know that if this ended you wouldn’t give a fucking shit.

you’d just move on because it’s a fucking fact.

why can’t you show some fucking emotion other than anger and apathy.

oh wait. apathy is the fucking lack of caring. that’s not an emotion.

so just anger then.

do you even want this to fucking work? or are you waiting for me to get fed up so you don’t have to go back on your word?




i hate that i think you could be taking such advantage of me.

someone could be with you and i would “never know”

i fucking hate that you are so ambivalent.

you think i’m so weird. well that’s fucking vague.

you challenge people all day. and hate being challenged.

i hate that work always comes first.

i hate that you can’t make me any sort of priority.

i hate that you like it when i pull away and i can’t stand it.

i hate that you probably enjoy the company of other people more than mine.

i hate the way you’re closed off.

i can’t think of anything good.

i hate that too.


i just think you don’t care. you’re too tired too busy too distracted too preoccupied. things are too important too urgent too much more in the now.

you don’t even tell the whole truth. you;re the one that says you believe in lies of omission. what else do you fucking leave out.

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate

is there anything left of me

is there anything good left for you to see in me

this is all wrong.


It has been a long time since I’ve prayed. Really prayed. Really tried to talk to God. I’ve sent positive thoughts out, but real prayer? It has been longer than I can really remember.

Sol said to try it. I didn’t. But right now I’m out of ideas.

It seems like every week there’s a crisis within me. A breaking point that is reached. Every. Week.

Therapy holds the promise of slow healing.

But the world moves faster. I need to do something now. So here it goes.


God. I don’t think you ask for much. Faith. Effort. Prayer? I don’t know what I believe but I believe that if I need to talk and have no one to talk to, my words will end up somewhere. Please. I need a helping hand. I only ask that I can be shown what I need to do. It may be right in front of me, but I don’t see it. I may stand in my own way. I need help to see it. I don’t know what I should be looking for. Maybe I shouldn’t be looking. I want to be able to love. I want to be able to trust in myself, my feelings, my mind. I want to be able to love myself. Not just think of myself. I want to be able to receive love so that I may give it. I give affection and care, but do I really give love? No. I want to become better, before it is too late. I don’t think I can do this on my own. Please.