Rambling Along   I am a little bit late writing in my journal today. It is not too bad though -- only about 10 hours! I am not going to get too worked up about it because it is not exactly as if it is a newspaper that is read by everybody in town. In other words, who cares?   This morning I went to see my social worker at the mental health clinic. Everything was going fine until we came to the street in front of the clinic. It had been dug up from one end to the other by the Highway Department. I doubt if even a horse could have gotten across the street, much less me. I wound up being dropped off in an alley behind the clinic. There sure were some fancy digs back there! NOT.   Even though I got there about an hour early, my social worker took me after I had waited about 30 minutes. He had written a goal for me that is required by the state every 60 days. I read over it, and then said he had to delete something, which he did. I read over the second draft, and found another mistake that he had to correct, which he did. After the third reading, I found something else that had to be taken out. He did that, and then said that I must have been a proofreader. I used to do that, but quit it because of some eyesight problems. I told him that I was just being extra-careful careful when it came to signing papers that were going to be read by government employees.   We started talking about my early childhood and my relationship with my parents. I was not too happy about that, especially when it got to the point where I had to discuss the sexual abuse that I had sustained. It is one thing to put it down in a journal, such as here on DS, but it is entirely different sitting across from a person and talking to him face-to-face. I was not a happy camper for most of that session. If I do not start writing in my PTSD journal again, I will never get through this.   Because I got to see him early, that meant that I had to wait an extra 45 minutes for my ride to pick me up. I figured it would then take me 45 minutes to one hour to get home, which would practically ruin the rest of my afternoon. As it turned out, the driver who got me could have been a NASCAR driver since I was home in the blink of an eye.   I was supposed to sign a renewal of the lease on my apartment late this afternoon. The manager called me and said that a mistake had been made and I was not supposed to do that until later in the year. That suited me just fine.   Tonight I am feeling tired, but will probably feel more so tomorrow night since I am going to see my physical therapist tomorrow morning. By the time she is done with me, I will not have any energy left. No wonder I am beginning to feel so goofy!   Quotes for Success:   “Act as though it is impossible to fail.”   Anonymous