Another day. Saturday to be precise. Let’s see, what’s going to happen today? Well, one of the dinner questions is, “What’s your favorite word?” And let’s be honest, my favorite work is some variation of, “fuck”. “Fuck bunch”, “Fucking Shit”, “let’s fuck” or IDK any way you word it, fuck is the best word. But, I don’t want to be lame and choose something predictable, so, I used chat GPT to help me find a, “new favorite.”
Here’s what I asked…”Give me a word for a stuck up rich and entitled person that is so out of touch they don’t realize they are a bitch.” Chat GPT delivers. Some favorites are snob, toff, posh asshole, patrician. But my favorite is dilettante. It sounds french and snobby just in itself. But the definition is oh so perfect, “privileged and shallowly involved in things” It’s perfect and describes the slow motion train wrecks that come into the unit.
Lindsey is hilarious. So demanding and she doesn’t even realize it. She’s so south Florida and a surgeon to boot. She brought up that she was a doctor at least 3 times without being asked. But even better were her demands this morning. “Let me back to my side for chapstick and vaseline, my skin will dry up and die.” Ok, maybe more a paraphrase than a direct quote, but I think you get the idea. So fucking funny. And Polly and I just look at each other and smile and quickly look down, trying not to laugh out loud. It’s so funny.
Geez. What am I feeling? Sad. Why? My friend is leaving. I have new friends now, too. Rose and Ella both actually like me now. Rose is such a wild card. She looks so cute and innocent, but things I’ve learned about her. 1) She likes curse words, like a lot. It’s really funny. 2) She enjoys microdosing mushrooms. Psychonauts are a special breed. 3) She has a great sense of humor. She actually gets my jokes. It makes me really happy. And Ella is coming around, too. She still thinks I’m weird, but she’s found a way to accept it I think. So anyways, I’m not totally alone here. Oh, and Kiersi is so cute. She’s like my big sister (even though she’s way younger than me.) But all three of them laugh a lot. Especially in the cafe when someone says something weird and we start looking at each other. It’s like a chain reaction that can’t be stopped. But Polly is still my favorite. Anything Betty says makes them laugh. Last night, Betty said she was grateful for me for my conversation and Polly immediately turns in my direction with a surprised look that turned into a grin that turn me into a grin that turned her into a laugh, that we both had to look away and cover our mouths so the laugh wouldn’t be audible. The same thing happened this morning when Betty said she was grateful for Polly. Geez, I’m going to miss that. It’s been a while since I’ve had a friend to laugh with like that.
Now about that talk with Betty, she was trying to open up to me. She’s had a hard life, and while most of her problems are rich people’s problems and make her seem out of touch, she’s been through the wringer the last few years. Last night she was telling me about her husband. They’ve been together for 30 years, but apart for the last year or two. And from the way she describes their relationship, he mostly puts up with her or just ignores her. That has to hurt so badly. It feels familiar, albeit different. And before she left for one of her other two homes, he was being at minimum verbally abusive. I told her that she deserves to be with someone that appreciates her for who she is and will be kind to her. And she said she was scared to divorce, something about messy assets. He is a big shot lawyer, so I’m sure he has a lot of protected assets, but 30 years of marriage, any judge is going to demand that he maintain her lifestyle, IMO. But what do I know. She cried when she talked about him. It was real, I think. She said the only reason her husband came to visit was because he wants her to have a good relationship with their daughter. I don’t see reconciliation in their future.
She also told me a little bit about her trauma. She was drugged and raped by her ex-boss. She won a big lawsuit. She said I could google her. I don’t really want to, it sounds very triggering. So while I can giggle at some of the stuff she says and does and the fact that she’s so aloof, I also can empathize with her. She can’t help it she’s rich. She’s just out of touch and in a behavioral hospital setting, everyone is equal. Money can’t buy privilege here and the more demanding you are, the more you strut your beautiful feathers, the more annoyed the staff and other patients and staff become. The less willing to help you the staff becomes, the more frustrated the dilettante becomes. And then, it’s a train wreck in slow motion. They either demand to be released (not going to happen, it’s hospital, Drs. say when you can go) or settle in and realize they aren’t special here. They’re just another patient with an eating disorder. Speaking first hand here, I think that’s what a lot of the patients thought of me. I didn’t mean to come across that way and I’ve toned it way down. I’m just another patient with an eating disorder. Don’t treat me like I’m special, I’m not.
To be fair, I’m also learning a lot about girl group dynamics. I’ve heard for years that girls can be really mean to each other and OMG is that true. Throw in the trans part and it makes it even worse, maybe. IDK. I can’t decide. But things I’ve picked up on: don’t be a bitch, always compliment the girl that dresses up for the day, don’t steal thunder, they hate it when you steal thunder, don’t be a princess, it’s ok to cry (it’s accepted and expected), say good morning and good night, don’t insist on being first, the more competitive you behave, the more they will try and knock you down. Middle of the road is ok, don’t be the prettiest and don’t be the ugly duckling. Make sure you congratulate, celebrate and articulate- gratitude, acts of kindness, any other chance you get. Don’t act entitled. Show up on time. Don’t leave early unless it’s an emergency. Follow the crowd when it comes to things like how you dress, talk and behave. Outliers look like competition. See above. Money isn’t power here. See above. Don’t get too many new and shiny things. Having the best makes you look snobby. Gay dudes are you friend, they will get your back. Don’t criticize or call out unless there is group consensus. If an older or pretty girl offers to help you with your make up, it means your makeup looks stupid. Let them help. Don’t be gross. Cute hair and makeup is ok sometimes, but make sure you dress down sometimes, too. If you behave like a pretty princess, they will treat you like a bitch. Funny is ok. Giggles are a sign of friendship. So are smiles. We all have to pee a lot. Talking about bodily functions is a signal that you’re, “one of the girls.” That includes potty talk. They love hearing about your kids, your cats, your dogs and your parents. Loving your parents is cool. Appreciating them is even cooler. Listen and don’t butt in to conversations. Don’t show off with fancy beauty products, it makes you look like a fucking snob. It’s ok to be skinny, it’s ok to be fat, don’t judge a girl on her looks, judge by her smile, her eyes and her heart. Those are things that matter most in a girl’s world. Be quick with your shower. It’s ok to primp a little, but make room for others. Don’t hog the mirror. If you’re first in line every day, you’re a bitch. Don’t be a bitch. DO NOT BE A BITCH. Like seriously, DO NOT BE A BITCH. Bitches get austrasized by the group. So, DO NOT BE A BITCH. Pronouns matter, especially to enbys, so get it right. Apologize and correct yourself if you get it wrong, don’t dwell. Don’t be too happy or excited. It’s ok to bitch a little, but don’t make it your M.O. That makes you a bitch, DO NOT BE A FUCKING BITCH. Little touches of makeup that are done right are ok. Full face makeup is kind of a no no, unless you have a reason (someone is coming to visit, you’re going out, etc.). Learn some different hairstyles. A headband every day is too cutesy. The ones with the bow are no bueno, unless it’s part of an ensemble that requires cuteness. Make friends early with new people, don’t wait. Being smart is ok, but you don’t have to be the smartest person in the room and you need to let other girls shine when they are better at something than you. Don’t compete. See above. Try and add something to the group that no one else adds. Polly is the strange one, Rachel is the house mom, Reina is the real one, etc. I’m funny. It’s ok to be funny. See above. A little quick check in the mirror is fine. Double check makeup, teeth and hair. Leggings are ok, but boobs are taboo. Wear a bra. Nips are not ok, even when it’s all girls. Down the patriarchy, but a certain level of lady is expected. Don’t be gross. See above. But most of all, please remember, DO NOT BE A MOTHER FUCKING BITCH.
Your friends are the girls that will wake you up if you’re napping and it’s snack or meal time. If they let you sleep, it might be an indicator that you’ve done something that the group disapproves of and you need to make up for it somehow. That can be humor, compliments, letting someone else go first, a general act of kindness, a note… something. I definitely have had days where they let me sleep, so I was probably a bitch that day.
I mentioned above that it’s both okay and expected for you to cry, but you also don’t want to cry all the time. That makes you look weak and girls are to be strong sometimes, too. It’s a fine line and balance. Younger girls think anyone over thirty is old. They think you don’t get them and they are less likely to make you a mainstay in their social group. I hate being one of the older patients here. I’m automatically excluded from certain things. I think they all think I’m funny, but maybe they don’t trust me or something. I don’t know.
I wish we were allowed to record and take pictures sometimes. We’ve had some really fun nights here. One night a few weeks ago, Gaby was still here and all the girls were strutting in the hallway with one of the nurses. It was so funny and everyone was smiling and giggling. Riley even had a smile and she never smiled. I want a picture with Polly, but I don’t want to ask because I’m afraid it will be weird. I want to ask her to add me on some social media app, but I don’t want to seem like a stalker. Ugh.
The biggest thing that I’ve learned is that I don’t know shit about being a girl. I can look the part, stand the right way, sip, don’t slurp, etc. All the shit Danielle was trying to tell me. But the dynamics part is obviously way more complicated.
10:45 AM and we just finished our AM snack. I’m already feeling the dread of lunch. What the fuck have I signed myself up to eat? I’m really sick of grilled cheese. I’m super ultra deluxe sick of cheese quesadillas. I think I forgot to utilize the bowl of buttered noodles this week. Courtney is going to start pushing me to eat bigger meals this week, I can feel it. Part of the reason I don’t want to go to phase II is that I’ll be expected to complete bigger meals without supplement. And even with supplement, I’ve come to despise it. I can’t get the feeling out of my head that the vanilla supplement is spoiled every time now. Thanks Betty. But the chocolate, which still tastes like ass, is so fucking thick and sits on my stomach like a lead weight. I don’t want to eat and I don’t want to supplement. I restricted last night. I had a cheese quesadilla and the cheese was coming out the sides and it looked gross, so I cut it off. It was just a small amount, but they gave me half a cup of supplement, even though I choked down the rest of it. It didn’t seem fair, so I restricted. I’ll suffer the consequences, I’m sure. Courtney is going to be on my ass about it. Alana, too.
Why has group been so hard this week? I’m sitting outside the group room, but I don’t plan on going to group, to be honest. I just don’t want to be in the group room with so many people. It’s just a lot, especially after a snack. I can sit here and journal and write and listen to music and it’s quiet and the energy is calm. The group has gotten a little more sensitive with the new admits. The girls are more touchy about redlight topics. Not to say that we blabbed about them before, but if we did, no one really said anything. I just have to remember to be more careful. Not trying to ruffle the collective groups feathers. Maybe that’s part of my hesitation about the groups. Like, I don’t want to say the wrong thing and I say the wrong thing all the fucking time. I have no filter and I don’t detect social queues. It’s a problem and one reason I’ve struggled to make friends here I think. My social queue detector is just defunct. I’ve started to question if I’m masking autism or if it’s ADHD or something else. Maybe I’m just socially awkward. I’m not particularly sensory sensitive. At least I don’t think so, I don’t know. Isabell just came into the hallway and announced, “group time” to the three of us sitting out here. She’s going to be annoyed by me today, because I’m probably going to skip all the groups.
I kind of want to try and hide between the wheelchairs in the hall near the exam room. But then I might end up drawing more attention from nursing. I want to hide. That’s how I feel, I feel exposed and raw and I want to hide under a blanket and I want to sleep. Good sleep and no dreams to remember. Just deep, comfortable, quiet, calm sleep. I miss my bed at home. And my cats and my dog. I miss my routine and I most of all miss Juniper. I want to go home, but I’m nowhere near ready. Even if I do PHP, I’m going to cheat when no one is looking. I want to get back down to 125 lbs. I want to check the scale every day. I want to body check every hour or every time I eat. I want to just drink shakes and no real food again. I don’t want to damage my body and I accept that these things will cause damage. But I still want to do them. The urge to do this shit is stronger than cocaine. And it saves so much money and time. I just genuinely don’t want to eat. I know, I keep saying it. It shouldn’t be my mantra, but it kind of is.
Oh gawd, Betty and Lindsey just came out into the hall. I guess they are skipping group, too, Polly is somewhere in the hall, not in a group. I don’t see her. Maybe with nursing. Betty is making a B-Line for her room I think. Lindsey is demanding shit from the BHTs. At least I’m journaling. I’m at least trying to cope in a way that works for me, because the breathing BS and all the coping mechanisms are not effective for me. At least not with my anxiety at 10/10. Lindsey is demanding they let her go back to the other side. They’re saying, “no.” Too many demands, BHTs no likey. You have to adapt, Lindsey. You’re not special here. Your surgery skills won’t get you privilege. The slow motion train wreck is high speed and headed for certain disaster. She’s back in the group room, just playing on her phone. It wouldn’t surprise me a bit if she’s doing voice to text while everyone else is trying to focus on whatever the group is about. It’s Maddy, New Girl, and Me in the hallway. Where is Polly? I think they are on the floor near the med room. I so selfishly want them to stay here until I’m ready to go. It’s complete selfishness. I am feeling sad. Why? Because my friend is leaving.
Now, the million dollar question. Do I clonazapam or do I not clonazapam. If I do, I can probably do group. But then I’ll be drowsy. My mind will be slow, but my feelings will be dull. That letter the other day said, “sit with the pain.” I’m not very good at that. I mask, I avoid, I dance around the pain the like a bull dances around a red cape. Maybe my sensitivity to pain is higher than most. Maybe that’s why I’m always looking for an escape hatch. I’d rather murder myself than sit with the discomfort. I know it’s wrong, but it’s what my brain is telling me to do with my body.
Maddy just took my spot on the couch in group. Now I can’t go in there, even if I want to. Goddamnit, wasn’t one of my goals to go to group. This is like a new struggle and I don’t understand it. I feel annoyed and disappointed in myself. I’m stronger than this. I have core values, and those revolve around doing what I need to do, so I can get home to Juniper. But I’m still scared. I’m scared of being outside of these walls. I feel like the world is going to come after me if I leave. I feel like Danielle has some sort of evil plot twist that’s going to result with me in chains. I fear Danielle a lot. Trauma is real and she caused nearly all of it. My heart breaks again, today, just thinking about it. Better to push these thoughts out of my head. Maybe I can focus on something positive. She said she hated DBT, because it was basically talking yourself into being happy. But I guess what I would ask her, now, if I had the chance is, “What’s wrong with talking yourself into being happy, if the end result is happiness?” I think it was just her sick brain tricking her into staying sick. It’s the same brain that told her not to go to the hospital for help. It’s the same brain that told her I’m a villain and that I was doing the things that she was actually doing. DARVO is so fucking real.
When will I run out of thoughts? Actually, I never knew that I had this much to say, to be honest. I guess, I’ve journaled before, but because it was paper and pen, I just stopped after a few pages, because my brain couldn’t keep up with my hand or wait, the other way, my hand couldn’t keep up with my brain. And it’s not like I’m saying anything insightful or useful or am I? Hard to say. I guess I’d have to let someone else read this shit and frankly that’s a level that I don’t think I’m willing to go to right now. At least not with anyone that I know. Maybe that’s my problem. Maybe I’m just too walled off to make good friends.
I think acceptance is actually a basic need, below food, shelter, clothing, but it’s there. As a marketer I used that one all the time. Maybe this is karma. I let my knowledge of human need be used for deviant purposes. That’s why I don’t want to go back to marketing. It’s all about knowing what drives human behavior and using that to profit. I’m a capitalist, really, I am. But greed and capitalism don’t have to go hand in hand. Besides, all the BS marketing I did and look where I’m at and who I made rich. Not myself, not my daughter, definitely not Danielle. I made two guys that already had everything wealthy. Ironically, though, I didn’t do it for financial gain, mostly. I did it because it was fun trying to build something. It was really fun being the best at something. In certain circles, I am thought to be a genius. I’m not, but they think so, and that feels really good. At least it did. I guess I don’t care about that any more. That’s one real reason Danielle lost interest in me. I don’t care about being a big shot any more. That drive is gone. I want to be the person that does the most good in this world. I think that means just being an absolutely awesome parent to Juniper and living up to my promise of giving her every opportunity that I can to thrive, whatever that may look like. Don’t get me wrong, I still want to shop, dress smart and cute and drive a nice car. I want to keep fixing up the house and making it beautiful. But I most of all want to take care of Bee. She needs me and I need her.
I want to be a better person. I get so short with Mom sometimes and I don’t mean to, it’s just like I get activated and turn into someone else. I hate being like that. I hate that I hurt her feelings. Yes, she has problems and her personality isn’t the easiest to get along with, but she does love her kids. She’s just awkward, too, sometimes. But she deserves grace, just like she gives me. I need to be more calm. I need to set better boundaries and be assertive but calm with her. I can’t lose my cool. I have to prove them wrong. All of them. I’m not a bad person. I’ve done shitty things, but I’m not a bad person overall.
I have an artist’s temperament, that’s true. I struggle with big emotions and they come across very aggressive. That’s precisely what I don’t want to be, aggressive. That’s scary and I don’t want to be scary. I want to be cute and cuddly, like a kitten. I don’t want to be a bad bitch. I want my aura to be pink and lavender. Gentle, soft and warm colors that draw people in and make them feel safe, happy and comfortable. That’s the image I want to project. Not a snobby, stuck up bitch. I swear that’s what I’m trying to express with my clothes and makeup, soft and gentle. Not fragile, but delicate. That’s how I see myself. I just hate the fact that when I break, it turns me ugly, like a honey bee that’s forced to use its stinger to defend itself, knowing it will likely die. When I go aggressive, a part of me dies. The sweet kind part of me falls to pieces and only thorns are left. I don’t want to be thorns. I’m a flower. I want to be like Rose, capture the sun and share it with everyone. I need to learn to smile. Maybe that will come, it’s important for girls to smile. My skin is softer and so is my heart, but my head is strong. Willful, I think they call it. I’m supposed to be willing, but here we are.
I took the clonazepam. Fuck It. It just means I can’t lie down. I have to stay up and moving. Brandon is coming this afternoon. I get to feel like his girl for an hour. It feels so good. Like the highest high I’ve ever had. My stomach is butterflies and my skin a conductor for his electric touch. If I had it my way, he’d rip my clothes off and fuck me in the room. I’d be loud and everyone would hear and I wouldn’t fucking care. Slut. Whatever. At least I’m not a bitch. DO NOT BE A BITCH, BITCH.
I don’t know when food became such a stupid fucking problem. I do know that I’ve never eaten the way they make us eat here. I do know that for much of my youth, I skipped breakfast and lunch. I’d eat a decent dinner, sometimes. Sometimes it was mac and cheese or red beans and rice. Sometimes Mom was gone and there wasn’t much of anything to eat. Sometimes we forged her signature on checks to order a pizza. Sometimes I’d find odd jobs to do for neighbors to make a little money so I could buy chips and soda. I’m a picky eater, but not in the traditional sense. Big flavors are fine. I like vegetables, including the green ones that are really good for you. I’m ok with meat sometimes, but only sometimes and only if it’s cooked in a way that I feel comfortable with. It’s not about being well done or anything like that. This is something Danielle and I had in common. Chicken, for example, is fine, if it is seasoned, thin and cut into small bits. Maybe that is an eating disorder behavior. If so, this has been going on for far longer than the transition. Come to think of it, I’ve had body image issues since puberty. I was excited about puberty, but when it came to the way my body was changing, I didn’t like it. I wanted to grow up, sure. But not into a hairy, smelly monster with a deep voice. I miss my sweet girl voice that I once had.
I remember puberty being a big deal. But mostly because everyone else had already started it and I hadn’t. Then, the summer that I started puberty, I was in Portland, TN with my grandfather and Dad. Both of them are good guys, I guess. But they wouldn’t like who I am, so maybe they aren’t good guys. My whole concept of who’s good and who’s bad has been flipped on it’s head. My concept of friendship is fucked up, too.
Let’s take a break from this trip down puberty lane to make a quick note, Lindsey is getting worse. To be fair, she’s on 2E pretty much by herself. So that means all her stuff is over there, including her room. But she’s demanding that they let her go have room time and frankly we just aren’t staffed to have anyone over there with her. And THIS IS A BEHAVIORAL HEALTH HOSPITAL. Privilege is not a thing here. You are not special, you aren’t important. You are a mental health patient. No one cares about what you want. They will try and be nice if you are nice to them, but demanding shit will get you NO WHERE. Actually, I’ve seen and mentioned how staff here are likely to spite you if you’re a posh bitch. DO NOT BE A BITCH.
Now, like I was saying, puberty hit me in a weird way and a way that only makes sense now. My body and it’s functions were changing, but in all the wrong ways. My sweet, cute voice got lower and my cute face turned more masculine. But not like, particularly masculine. It’s like I spent the last 30 years in between male and female. They call us shemales when we transition, but really, that’s what I was before I transitioned. I guess if I had done the T therapy, I would have become more manly, maybe. But I really did tremble at the thought of having more body hair, more facial hair, going bald, thicker and more coarse hair, etc. Like, eww, no. That’s not what I want, that’s not who I am. I’m gentle, I’m soft. Don’t make me more aggressive and more masculine. So now I’d say I’m more she than I am male. I’m pretty, like really pretty and I like that.
Brandon is coming after lunch and he’s going to hold me. He’ll cradle my hand between his big hands. I’ll touch his arm with my free hand, my head on his shoulder. He’ll kiss me and apologize for it. It’s cute. I get so excited just thinking about it. We’ll talk about this and that. I do wish he wasn’t poly, if I’m being very honest. I don’t mind Julia, because they don’t have sex. But I’m grossed out by the thought of him sleeping with Joseph and I really wish he wouldn’t chase other transgirls around. On the flip side of things, at least I’m sort of aware of what’s going on with him. He’s not cheating. I don’t think a poly person can cheat, unless they don’t tell me about it. Danielle said, “You’ll never be enough” and I guess there is some brutal truth to that. But he does love me. I can tell, I’m special to him. He took ME out on Valentine’s day and he knew he wasn’t getting anything out of it. Not that I didn’t want to give myself to him, but it wasn’t feasible that night. Anyways, he took me out. Not Julia or Joseph or anyone else. It was me. He wants to spend 2-3 nights a week with me when I get out of here. But today, I’ll settle for being kissed and those gentle touches that send sparks up and down my body, like direct current tied to my spine. Those touches that make me unable to control myself. I get wet and excited. Sorry, TMI, but it’s fucking true.
I know it probably seems a little flighty, but a quick Lindsey update. She’s demanding from another BHT that she be allowed over to 2E. And while it is a little unfair, it’s just the way it is. Except it bitch. You’re gonna have to sleep in the hallway during break. Grab a couch or a quiet corner and make yourself comfortable. We all do it at some point. Ella (BHT, super cute, blonde and sweet smile, also a Swiftie) isn’t going to budge. And, I just want to reiterate one more time, that they don’t like being told what to do or that they have to do something. They don’t really HAVE to do anything. They’ve got charting, and spa and they have to locate everyone on unit every 15 minutes. We don’t have extra staff to go sit on 2E while you recharge in your room. So, pull up a floor spot and make yourself comfy, bitch, cause they aren’t going to do what you want them to do. Period. I give her 24 hours before she’s demanding they let her go home. They won’t. But she will definitely demand it. That’s like the trainwreck finally. A big, giant burst of flames, screeches and stomping of entitled little posh feet. Shit, am I a bitch for watching the whole thing in slow motion? FUCK. DO NOT BE A BITCH.
I hate that I keep going back and forth between subjects, but I can’t help it. Every day there’s something on the unit that works as a distraction. I guess that’s part of the reason that I don’t really mind being here. I’m so used to being at home alone with only the cats and dogs and of course Jude to entertain me. Here it’s like a reality TV show. 19 strangers with mental health issues, committed mostly against their will, to live on a unit without access to TV, energy drinks or coffee, to find out what happens when patients stop playing nice, and start getting real. Real Eating Disorders, Denver.
Okay, so I just need to make it through lunch without a panic attack, which I think I’ll be able to do. Go in and eat the slop they give me. Drink the water they give me and try and win contexto, because, I mean, I’m really fucking good at that shit. It was so funny. Yesterday we were playing, and Lindsey thought she was about to win it naming off various species of fish, when I throw out the brilliant associate, “Bait.” As soon as it came out of my mouth, Lindsey says something like, “we were doing pretty well naming off differ…” and the BHT (I don’t remember who) chimes in, “That was it.” Lindsey actually seemed sad that we won. I guess she wanted to be the Contexto hero. Na, girl. That’s Rachel. I’m Rachel’s trusted sidekick. And together, we nail that shit, like every day. And I’d like to mention, I also had the breakthrough word, at 29, that got us closer to the final word. That’s how Contexto goes, you see. You name random shit. Most of the words are going to be in the thousands. But then someone finds a basic word, “human” or “house” or “water” and that takes you closer, in the 100’s. Then, it’s game time. Now you need to find a closer association. What connects all of the words that are in the 100’s. Ok, boom, you find a word that’s under 50, now we’re getting somewhere. Let’s go for the kill, at least one word under 10 and we’re in business. Put it all together with a new direction that directly associates with all the words under 10. And, winner, winner.
Oh Lindsey, stop arguing with the BHTs girl. They aren’t gonna help you right now. You need to talk to your team. But it’s the weekend, so there is no team here. So really, you’re fucked until Monday if you’re lucky. Probably middle of the week. Our priorities aren’t their priorities. And if it truly is an emergency, you’re better off going to nursing and expressing your distress, they have a little more power than the BHTs. The BHTs are trained to say, “no”. They have to draw a line in the sand. Otherwise, they would get run all over by every primadonna that steps foot in here. I get it. I guess I got frustrated at first, too. But once you learn the chain of command and how to approach things, it’s actually not hard to get what you want, when you want it. Also, it helps if the BHTs like you. You have to make them like you. Corrine and Ella are so sweet and cool. I love having them here. They would bend over backwards to help you accomplish whatever it is you’re trying to do. But, you have to be cool. You have to accept that they have authority over you. You’re a mental health patient and they are basically enforcers of the rules. Ok, so I was a bitch that one night about the hoodie thing. But Shawna is the only one that enforces that rule and the cafe is cold, usually. And I didn’t have a bra on, so my nipples would have been poking straight through my shirt. So, I just went to bed. I think I pissed off all the girls on unit, Jake defended me. But really, i should have just gone and gotten a sweater or something that wasn’t against the rules. I also was just having a really bad day.
Uh Oh, 12:37, it’s time for lunch. I really, really don’t want to go. Corrine just popped her in my door. She’s so nice. I want to listen to her and do what she asks. She’s cool. I’m cool with her. It’s a mutual respect thing and it works. Ugh. Lunch. Wish me luck.
Still a lot of anxiety at lunch, but significantly less thanks to our good friend benzo. Thanks Benny, you really rock my world. And what a fantastic lunch we had. Contexto, 9 guesses. Global.com 7 guesses. Global.org org 4, but it would have been 3, but Betty through out india. Like, na girl, we’re trying to go southeast. Raine took us home with Ethiopia. Rachel and I pretty much ran Contexto by ourselves. It was so fun. Rachel got the answer, Dinosaur, but I had 2 of the top 12 answers, so I felt pretty fucking good about the whole thing. Lindsey keeps bitching like non fucking stop. She’s still arguing with BHTs. It’s not going well and she’s making a real ass out of herself. The FIRE. The SPARKS, The SCREAMS. The HORRORS. Bodies are lifeless on the roads. I do kind of feel for her, she just wants her shit out of the bathroom. But they just keep saying, “no.” I swear, Lindsey, the more you try and haggle and argue with them, the more they will dig their feet in and tell you to fuck off. You have to be cool, fool. God, I hope I didn’t come across like that when I got here. I’m so much nicer than that and I know how to take no for an answer. And I know how to properly escalate. I’d just like to point out that the mail policy has quietly been updated to recognize that we order essentials through the mail. It’s our connection to the outside world. No one knows it, but I did that single handedly. You’re welcome 2W. We can now get packages without a delay. It’s great. It’s gone from 2 packages a week to, please limit non-essentials. That’s a much more rational policy. I guess I made a good case. I really wish I could be a lawyer. I’d be good at it.
Ella, I just want to write this note to you that I’m sorry. Everyone is a little high strung today. I’m not, I took a benzo and I’m cool as a cucumber for the like the next 3 hours. I’m just going to snuggle Brandon. My voice naturally goes higher when I talk to him. It’s cute and he likes it. Yeh, I started with an apology to Ella and ended gushing for Brandon again. And since no one else is going to read this, I’d just like to point out how much i want him to get me naked and do it to me. There’s something so awesome about giving my body to him so he can have his way. Great if I orgasm, but even if I don’t, I likes taking me and I like being taken. It feels natural. Especially when I’m on my back, OMG that was intense. But really anyway he wants to do it to me. Flip me around, turn me over, sit me up, sit me on top. Tell me what to do. I like it. I even like giving him head. He’s patient with me and isn’t too demanding, but occasionally pushes my head down kind of hard and it’s so fucking hot. I’m just a mess. He makes me a mess.
Oh boy, now Betty is pacing with her bag again. The cool news is that we don’t have an MC this afternoon, so they’re probably just gonna let us chill in our rooms. I need a day off from groups. I’m just so tired of sharing and being vulnerable. And the vibe is different. It’s going to be an adjustment. We have some really smart and insightful people on the unit. Katy (they/them) and Priscilla (she/her), both very intelligent and they like to dominate the conversation a little. I’m ok with that. Sometimes I feel like I talk too much anyways. They’re new here, let them set the pace. It’s just that, their pace is a little different and I’m having to catch up. I’m use to Raine, Ella and me setting the pace. So on one hand, it’s fun to hear new voices. But on the other hand, it’s a little frustrating when I feel like I can’t get a word in or I feel like we’re just flying in different directions. Part of the fun with group is finding ways to connect with people. Shared experiences and feelings make us all feel closer as a group.
I think Lindsey just realized that she’s not getting her way, like at all. Ella says, “I’m opening the patio for those who want to go outside” and Lindsay responded with, “Can you open the group room?” Like, no bitch. Girl, you’ve got to slow your mother fucking roll. She was told no, so she said, “Ok, I’ll go outside.” Like she was given a choice. I mean I guess she was. Sit inside on the couch and STFU or go outside on the patio and STFU. TRAIN MOTHERFUCKING WRECK! BOOOM!
I, on the other hand, am just waiting for Brandon to be brought up. I do wish they’d hurry because they only give us an hour. But, I’m going to be patient. No point in being rude, or demanding. It literally gets you no where. Being a sweetheart, however, will get you favors. Like extra minutes with your guest and shit like that. I’m perfectly satisfied with that. Actually, I have to say, most of the BHTs we’ve had lately are so fucking chill. Kristen is probably the most annoying of them all. I feel like if this were the Stanford jail experiment, she’d be the first one to start brutalizing the “inmates”. Like, she just likes power a little bit too much. She kind of gets off on saying, “no”, and enforcing the rules. She’s also just a rule follower and I get that. It’s her job. And truthfully, I think she’s a sweet girl. It’s just hard going back and forth between staff that are relatively lax and those that are by the book. There are less, “by the book” staff than others. Something something.
Brandon just left. We got a full our of cuddle time in the phone room. So like, lots and lots of snuggles. He keeps reminding me about how much he wants to, “spend time”, with me. Ok, so I’m a little new at this, but I’m pretty sure he has plans for me and I’m not going lie, I have plans for him, too. And I sure as fuck hope they involve him taking my clothes off and fucking me multiple times. I can’t wait. I could write a porno in this blog, but I’m not gonna. It wouldn’t be appropriate. Just know that I love spending time with him. I”m getting more and more attached.
I felt so relaxed after hanging out with him for an hour and all the snuggles, I didn’t even mind snack. Then, I fell asleep until dinner time. They’ve let us chill in our rooms. I took such a nice long nap. Now, it’s dinner time, but I swear, I’m so fucking chill, I don’t even think care. I hope it’s not something awful.
I woke up and Lindsey is out there, I think she’s on the phone ordering more shit. I already know she has no money, because she doesn’t get paid until the end of the month. I think I heard something about a tax refund on April 29th. That’s a long way away. Is she using her credit card. Ohh good lord, please tell me your credit card number. I’m going to order her so much shit here. Weird, fucking shit. Please, Oh please, let me have your credit card number, Lindsey. We all need a good laugh and I will max that fucker out shit by her, for her, and to her. I’m talking custom coasters, embroidered towels and wash clothes, 10 pairs of terrible shoes, some less than lethal weaponry, stickers, custom stickers, really red light topic t-shirts in all the wrong sizes, a book about medical ethics, a wig, extensions and some sort of pastry for the staff. And not just on our unit, the staff of the whole building, including PHP. I’m talking about dog sweaters and kitten mittens, strange “Adult baby” costumes, onesies, onesies and some really inappropriate skin tight dresses. I mean, I’m pretty much going to have truckloads of shit delivered, all to her. And all at her expense and it’s going to be GLORIOUS. When she learns that they will no longer let her have packages, it’s going to be a hellscape. When she sees it’s all on her credit card and that her shit is maxed out, she’s going to have a nightmare trying to get things returned from all the various vendors. It’s going to be so fucking funny.
No luck with the credit card, but my dinner word was somewhat successful. Pretty sure that none of the aloof snobs know what dilettante means, which is fantastic. And labeling it my, “2nd favorite word” did result in Raine asking what my favorite word was, “some variation of the fuck word” which resulted in someone saying, “I knew it.” However, no one bothered asking what dilettante means, which was a little disappointing. But, let’s take a moment to talk about the glorious nature of the fuck word and why it’s my favorite. It’s really the most versatile word in the English language. Happy, Sad, Angry, Mad, Joy, Pain and some Sexy. It really does it all. It can be a noun, verb, adjective or adverb and if you piece together your sentence correctly, it can be all these things in one sentence and sometimes one word. For emphasis, you can add it to virtually any other word and it creates a stir. And it’s still considered the worst curse word we can use. It’s such a dirty, dirty word. But not really, that’s just kind of silly. So it actually just creates the illusion of a dirty word, when really it’s just a word. There are so many words that are so much worse than fuck. Words that have hateful, evil, vile and despicable meaning. But fuck, no pun intended, gets the award, year over year. Now there are some close contenders that I really do appreciate. Words like cunt, bitch, dick, cock and balls. But put them all together and you still don’t get anywhere close to the power of fuck. Fuck just rolls off your tongue and once you learn to say it, you say it all the time. For me, it was third grade, when my mom decided I could watch R rated movies for some reason. I learned it and loved it and started saying it almost immediately. It was amazing that I said such a word and not only did the sky not fall down, but all my friends joined in for a ton of fucking fuck word fun. It really added to zeal to our conversations. I love the word, I really do.
Dinner was so sad. What am I feeling? Sad. Why? Polly leaves after one more day. We played got it and the words were polyurethane and jail break. Aww… what a send off. Perfectly weird and confusing. There will be no more got it. There will be no more laughs. To be honest, i just picked a radiohead lyric. You can pretty much pull any radiohead lyric and as a single word or phrase, it’s going to sound strange. But the kicker is that no one is going to play along with me like Polly. No one else thinks my stupid jokes are funny and it sucks. This is detrimental to my health. I’m going to be depressed for a while and feel really bad. It’s strange kind of heart break. Like, I want them to be my best friend forever, because they are awesome and make me smile and laugh. And I don’t feel weird or dumb. Nothing is too strange or out there. And just grinning makes us both laugh. And I don’t know if I’ll ever even see them again. I’m crying right now, quietly and no one even knows it. They don’t know.
I don’t have many friends. I struggle to make them and other than Brandon, I have made a real friend since I’ve come out. Susan is my friend, I guess. Although, I think i really pissed her offer because I cussed at my mom. It was my bad, I need to be nicer to her, even when she makes me feel insane. But that’s not the story here. The story is I want Polly to be my friend and stay in touch. But I don’t want to be the weird old person and ask them for their phone number. I’m scared they’d reject me or maybe they don’t like me as much as I like them. I am so fucking emo. And it’s going to make being here suck, because there’s no one to fill this void. But I know I’m not ready to go. I still want to restrict at every fucking meal. If I leave here and I eat 2 meals a day and 3 snacks, you can bet your ass I”m skipping whatever my home meal assignment is. There’s no way I’m going to eat like this and continue to gain weight. Letting me go into the wild is a terrible idea, Just being honest. So i need to stay. I need to get this anxiety under control. I need to stop this suicidal ideation and self harm bullshit. I need to learn to cope in a non-maladaptive way. Fuck this sucks. I just want to cry and go to sleep. I have to really get better. Like, really, really better. I need my temper to be calm, my mood to be stable. I need to be in the hospital for while more. It’s not that I don’t want to leave, it’s that I know it’s a terrible idea to go.
As soon as I’m in the real world again, exposed to real pressures, all this shit is going to sneak right back up on me. I have to be stable and right now, I’m just not. My anxiety is still a 10 when I wake up and a 10 after snack. I can’t go to group, because I can’t be around people. I hate it. I wish my brain didn’t suck. I wish it wasn’t sick. I live with the guilt that I somehow did this to myself and I hate that shit. If I hadn’t taken so much MDMA or done all that coke, would I be more normal, more balanced. Probably not. The depression started at least 5-6 years before I ever even experimented with my first drug. MDMA just gave me some temporary relief for a while. I had radical mood swings when I was 14-16 years old. I guess around puberty. And before that, there were tantrums. It’s not my mom’s fault, but it is, in that I learned many of my maladaptive behaviors from her. I learned the big dramatic tantrums from her. I learned to yell and scream and cry, from her. It’s not her fault. Her brain is just sick and she thinks praying will make it unsick. Thanks Debbie. Your stupid fucking church is absurd. It teaches hatred and keeps people sick that need help, including you. Except, apparently, drinking half a bottle of wine every single night is totally acceptable. Weed, no! Wine, Okay. I mean, Jesus definitely would have smoked hashish or weed of some sort. Enjoy the fruits of the earth and all. And honestly, I think he would have used pages from the old testament to roll a phatty. Because everyone knows the old testament is fucking bullshit, mostly written by kings to keep the population in line. The jews don’t really follow the old testament, so why the fuck do we? Wow, this just turned into an unhinged rant. My brain is tired. I’m ready for bed meds and bed. Bring on the next shitty snack so I can shovel it down and hopefully pass out. Tomorrow sucks, but I’m going to try and make it the best day I can. I’m going to wear my EFF unicorn shirt, black jeans, and my sparkly skirt. It will be the last day that I feel comfortable being myself and behaving like a child. Going to make the most of it, I suppose. I should have bought the most ridiculous onesie I could find for onesie friday. I feel guilty, I stole their thunder. I’m sorry, I really am. I am a child. I am. I promise, no amount of years will make me a grownup. I’m going to ask them for their phone number. Quit being a pussy and just ask. If they say no, you’re no worse off then you are right now. Except you got rejected. But they won’t say no. They’ll say yes and send you funny videos and stuff. It’s like your perfect penpal. I can continue to be a bad influence from a million miles away.
Keep my head in the game. Focus on positives. Focus on goals. Focus on core values. I completed my dinner when I really really really wanted to restrict. I wanted to fail. I feel like I’m still failing. How does Polly eat those scary foods? How do they do it? Why am I not ready to move to PHP? Why am I stuck? I want to recover. I want to get better. I hate this. I hate it. I hate it. This is the worst thing ever and I fucking hate it. I feel so powerless and like I have no control and it sucks. Opposite action, name your thoughts. Snap your fingers. You’re doing so well. You’re not going to fail. Be strong. Strength, but no bail money. I hate this. I hate it so much. I hate change. Why does everything always have to change. Why can’t the good things just stay the same? Why can’t I keep the good things around me and just get rid of the bad ones. I swear to fucking god I hate this shit. I’m crying again, but at least I didn’t put on makeup today, so no black streaks down my face. Be strong. Be strong. Get through this shit so I can go home to Juniper. Remember your core values. Remember to be adaptive and persevere. This year has just been one shit show after another. I feel like nothing is going right and I’ll never get it right. I hate this. I hate it so much. I’m crying again, like a fucking baby. I hate trying to be strong when I feel like things are crumbling. I hate it. I hate it so much. I know there’s so much to be grateful for and yet I can’t see it. It’s like I have on glasses that hide all the beauty of the world and only let me see the ugly. I know the beauty is there and I know if I just take off the stupid fucking glasses, I’ll see it just fine. But I can’t. Or I won’t. I don’t know which. Haven’t we talked about this in group? I guess I’m supposed to own it. It’s a choice. See the world as an ugly hellscape where everything bad happens to me, or see it for what it truly is, a wonderful opportunity each and every day. I want friends that love me for who I am. Not what I am. Who I am. Despite my weirdness and awkwardness. Despite my inability to communicate. They love me and appreciate me for exactly who I am. But then, there’s the self doubt. That son of a bitch, Mr. Negative. He’s screaming in my face, “You’re not good enough. You’re not worthy. You’re weird. You’re dumb. You’re GODDAMN UGLY. And soon you’re going to be a disgusting fat fuck.” Every day, all day. I don’t want to listen to him, but he’s in my fucking eyeballs and simultaneously screaming in both ears. And you know what? Most days, I think he’s right. I don’t think I’m a good person. I think I’m selfish and mean. I don’t want to be, but I can’t help it, it’s just who I am. But it’s not. It’s who I was, I mean. I’ve changed, I’ve softened. I’ve let the good out. The gentle, kind and caring version of me. I want her to shine through and break Mr. Negative into a thousand bits with her sunlight. The cure for darkness is the light. I want Clara to walk in the light and be the kind, caring, empathetic and loving person that she’s meant to be. Before the hatred came. Before Mr. Negative took his ugly fucking grip. I want to be anything, but this shell of a fucking human. I want to be virtuous and righteous and altruistic. I want to have Brandon’s heart, that cares for others. That sees a need and helps make a difference. I don’t want to be shallow or vain. I want to empathize with those that are vain and shallow and help them find happiness in light. I just don’t know how to do it.
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