I like Art Therapy

Got Art Therapy tomorrow. Scared. Scared of going as haven't stepped out of my four walls on my own for a while. Scared that another Me will come out, Like it does when I try to be me in real life. Scared that i will be a blithering idiot when I get there. Worried that my voice will come out wrong, that I will have one thing in my head but will say something different.

I like Art Therapy. Lesley the art therapist is very nice. She makes me a coffee, I chat to her a bit, sometimes we have a laugh, sometimes not. Theres lots of yummy, colourful things to play with. Paints and Pastels and inks and these special pencils that turn into watercolours. I like art. And therapy this way is definitely easier than talking.

My favouritest thing to do at Art Therapy is to rearrange all the pastels in the box into the best colour cordinated order, from dark to light red orange yellow green blue indigo violet and all the ones in between and making them all look nice. That is very satisfying. And then I hate the awkward moment when I take out a pastel from the nicely arranged box and it messes up the whole routine. But once I get into the swing of it I can just about bear it. Dont think Im supposed to spend these sessions putting pastels and pencils and paints in rainbow order. Sometimes I like use the colours too and make layers of brainwaves on the page.

But last week when I went I was too shaky and my head was too loud and I couldnt explain why.
It often happens, with lots of things, and I cant explain why.

I've got to go to Art Therapy tomorrow, and hold it together. Maybe I won't say much, just draw, to avoid any confusion. Although maybe this will only create confusion. The thing is I'm so confussed, I don't know what happens to me sometimes. Its like my mind and my body and my awarenes of myself are all seperate.