SEPTEMBER
September 30th
Every word in this journal is Trish's fault.
Trish is my therapist and best female friend. And I only say this because Don is my best male friend and it will be easier for everyone if we establish this all up front.
"Pretend you don't know you at all, Ellen," she said. "Tell yourself about your life. You can talk to me if you want to, but mostly I want you to talk to yourself."
At the end of this year, if I haven't already worked it out, we'll look through all the words and figure out what's wrong with me.
I'm not sure how this is supposed to help. I told Trish I know words—I know them well—and they've never done anything except get me in trouble. But maybe I need more trouble in my life. Some big cataclysmic event or something...