  Yesterday?s meeting with Susan triggered enough nervous energy to keep my cheeks aflame for hours after. Shaking hands upon arrival, somehow the gesture struck me as inappropriately intimate. I suppose because my hands were already shaking on their own, thank you very much.
I was plenty afraid. Talking about my career future is like? well, it?s like going in for a prelim therapy appointment. All the tilling of the earth that?s required to get what?s going to fit me, the temperament analysis, the talk about what I feel is worth doing and what?s too frightening to even consider. I almost cried at one point. It?s difficult to forecast how my mental state and interpersonal quirks will affect my ability to work in certain situations. I mentioned my SMI to her, immediately afterward my eyes darted back and forth for cover. Guess it?s not over with, this adjustment period following the diagnosis.
I think I was ashamed to admit it. I stopped short of providing any more detail than that. the period of loss (of my conceptions of myself) isn?t quite finished. My parting words were the most poignant. ?I don?t really feel safe in the world, so talking about all this stuff is really intimidating, really threatening.? Information I later shared with my mom. She knows. Even my dad knows. It?s a hold-over in part from the FBI raid. Dad got over it, mom still copes with it. Yet still, there?s Julian. What lies beyond the reach of the threats of the world. Maybe I?ll go up there this weekend. 
