i have so much to write about tonight that I decided to come up with a new term for it (and trademark it for my own protection). So lady and gentlemen, I bring you the Hodgepodge post (ie hodge-post) issue 1 volume 1.

Terror-py. Its a good thing. I’m not talkin the kind of terror-py that happens when religious fanatics get ahold of WMD’s and/or American Airlines aircraft. I’m talking the mental terror-py. Others have called this phenomenon “therapy”, but I will use my own term, thank you very much!

I’ve been in terror-py for close to, perhaps even more than, two years. It all started many years ago in a far away city. Well, 10 years ago in San Francisco really. I tried terror-py once. I went for my consultation, and the guy had me at 100% pure raw emotion in half an hour and I didn’t know how to handle it. The fear and overwhelming-ness of it all scared me into not trusting terror-pists. I left his office and never went back.

Flashforward to 2002, fall, the leaves are starting to change and the air is getting crisp. I’m living in Chicago, and I’ve just gone thru the worst break-up of my otherwise glamorous life. It hurt. It devastated me (sorta like the upcoming elections will devastate the shrub.) I needed help to get thru this period in my life, so I asked a friend and he recommended the person that would turn out to be an amazing lifebelt.

I started seeing the terror-pist shortly after and over time I began to let my guard down and really come to understand how relationships are supposed to be. I learned how to feel, how to cry, how to be open (mostly) and honest. There were topics that I’ve still not opened up because, well, they’re personal and nobody should know about them except YOU, my loyal reader.

I think I changed and grew as a person. I’m better equipped to handle the bumps in the road and I’m starting to understand and trust my own feelings and needs. It is really kinda cool.

But… cause there always is… I’ve been needing to test the waters of independence again. To be out on my own and see how I do. It feels a little like growing up and moving out of the house and heading out into the world for the first time; only, this time without the frat house kegger parties and the all-nite, drug-fueled raves and nightclubs. This time, I’m going to do it in a healthy and adult way.

It was not an easy topic and I found myself walking around it for the first ten minutes in his office. I touched on topics that I’ve already dealt with and filed away under “mostly done”. Then I realized that what I’d been thinking for the last 3 weeks needed to be talked about. And ya know what… It wasn’t as bad as that one time when he wanted me to do group and I agreed cause I didn’t want to disappoint him, but then I had a panic attack and had to take xanax to get to sleep. Not even close to that bad. It made me see, that I actually have grown. I was able to tell him my needs and face the outcome of my words. We discussed it calmly and openly. I’m going to miss my time with the terror-pist. He’s a great guy and, well, I’m partly writing all this cause I finally broke down and gave him the link to my blog so I thought I should probably write something about him, cause I don’t think I have yet… (Damn you self-censor!!!)

in part two (2) of the Hodge-post(tm) I need to talk about The Padre.

Padre used to live here in Chicago until June when he relocated to Vancouver, British Columbia. That’s in Canada for those Republicans that read this. No, not the state north of us, the country. Yes that one. The cold one with Socialized Healthcare that works.

Anyway… He has been in town for close to two weeks and it has been great to see him and reconnect. Dinners and lunches and coffees. All the things we used to do regularly, now take on a special feel because his time here is limited.

Something special happened on Friday night. After his wildly expensive dinner extravaganza the last few remaining party people decided to head to a new little pub called Crew to continue the festivities.

We drank, caught up and had a general good time. The night began to wind down and since we were calling it a night we said our good byes and headed out the door. Padre was going to give me a ride home, but as he walked to his rental car, he was approached by one of the regular pan handlers that loiter outside the bar praying on the drunk gay boys. They walked and talked quietly in a manner I’d never seen before and it struck me strangely. Once we crawled into his car he informed me that when he arrived, that man had asked for money but was instead offered a hot meal. Padre had taken the man across the street to a Chinese restaurant and bought him a meal. I believe it was a shrimp dish of some sort. The quiet interaction that I’d witnessed was actually the man thanking Padre. I finally saw the real Padre. A caring and conscious man that is doing his version of God’s will quietly and without fanfare. He was helping, one man at a time. It was a beautiful and spiritual moment that will resonate with me for some time.

I’m done. Thank you for reading the hodge-post(tm) issue 1 volume 1. Go help someone