Weeks Go By
My life begins to revolve around Wednesdays.
Thursday I visit Ms. Jenkins, humbly stand before her and offer my thoughts on the previous day’s therapy session. Such is repeated in exiting her office, also sharing the harrowing experience with Miss Carson. Weekends I heal, finding that lollygagging about the house half naked... nothing covering my raw posterior... promotes the healing.
There is no dating, no social life. And for some reason there comes no inclination to bring self-gratification... sort of a self-imposed chastity in that my therapist assures I am emotionally and physically depleted of thoughts of s*x and penile pleasure.
Tuesday my apprehension begins to foment. And by Wednesday, I cannot think, cannot work, futilely trying to calm myself in watching the cloc
