I\u2019ve been here for 7 weeks or something like that and I just started journaling like 3 days ago, maybe. And I filled up a full notebook. Not going too deep or trying to be introspective. Just spilling out the thoughts that fill up my head. Something about pen to paper really helped with the anxiety I\u2019ve been coping with for the last year or whatever. Today, I ran out of paper, so I\u2019m going to use google documents, but don\u2019t think this is going to become a thing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
How am I feeling? IDK. Anxious. Cute. Clever. Nervous. Sad.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Why? Anxiety persists and just gets worse as the day goes on. I swear they gave me like triple the amount of Raisen Bran a normal person should eat. My stomach is not super happy about it. I\u2019ll probably shit my brains out. EWWW. I hate the way my body functions. I hate the body parts I have. I feel so gross and dirty. It never ends.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Why? Today, everyone was supposed to wear a onesie. Since I don\u2019t care much for following the crowd, I wore a long dress and my cute pink cardigan. Betty offered to help with my makeup and I felt I had to say yes, even though I didn\u2019t want to do so. But she did even out my eye shadow. I could tell she wants to be my big sister. It\u2019s sweet. She\u2019s actually a very sweet lady. She\u2019s just rich. It\u2019s not her fault. She\u2019s also beautiful. When I see her pink lips and eyes, I picture the young version of her, before the wrinkles. Before she was drugged and raped. Before the abuse and neglect of her husband. She was a knock-out. I guarantee it. She offered to let me borrow a short dress. I\u2019m too shy to wear something sexy around all these girls. But the offer was sincere and I appreciate it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
However, she\u2019s wearing a cheetah print dress and shoes today. It\u2019s cute. We dressed up today, just in an adult way. Unfortunately, no one else wore their onesie, except Polly. I was trying to steal their thunder. If I had known it was just going to be them, I would have worn jeans and hoodie, so they could shine. I did want to steal the thunder of the tag-a-longs that follow Polly. They\u2019re unoriginal copy cats. No hate. Just saying, I lead, I don’t follow. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
This writing business has really helped with anxiety. It\u2019s the first thing that I\u2019ve found that actually works. I probably keep repeating myself about it, but I guess I\u2019m just really happy that I\u2019ve finally found something that works that isn\u2019t a drug. The only problem is, as soon as I put the pen down or the computer away, it all comes rushing back like a tidal wave and I find myself wanting to hide in the corner or my room. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
But not today. Today, I don\u2019t mind being seen. I don\u2019t mind sticking out a little bit. There are those here who hate it, I can tell. Like Katy. They are strange and I can\u2019t get a read on them, but I don\u2019t think they like me very much. It\u2019s okay. Can\u2019t please everyone. They are gender neutral, fem leaning. So it\u2019s interesting. Us gender diverse folk should really band together. But I guess if you find femininity repulsive, then seeing a trans girl get dolled up is probably eww. I get it. I find masculinity pretty repulsive most of the time. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The exception is Brandon. He\u2019s definitely masculine, but not in a Joe Rogan kind of way or anything. Just in a, \u201cI am a man\u201d proud kind of way. He\u2019s strong. I like his masculine features. I like his big hands and strong arms. I like touching his chest when he touches me. I like how girly he makes me feel. I get butterflies in my stomach every time I think about it. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Two visits ago they put us in the telephone room, because there was nowhere else for us to go and we spent the entire time snuggling. He touches my side or my neck. I draped my legs over his and he held me, my head on his shoulder. It was humanizing, which is something kind of rare in a behavioral health setting. Everything else here is so rigid. They wouldn\u2019t let us go in there on our last visit. What a shame.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I’ve been really struggling with going to group for the last week or so. Especially with the influx of new admits. Don\u2019t get me wrong, they are lovely people. They all add something good to our unit, but it\u2019s just a ton of new energy. As I feel things out, it makes me feel stressed and anxious. It also makes me not want to talk. Why? I guess because I don’t know them and I feel like the authentic me is too much for most people. I don\u2019t know if that\u2019s true or not, but I definitely harbor that belief. I think they call that mind reading.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Also, Chris\u2019s groups are hard. He hits on some really tough issues. I gabbered on about the body neutrality thing. But that\u2019s just the beginning of it. They\u2019re all really hard groups. I end up walking out early or running out as soon as they are over. They\u2019re just emotionally impactful.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Also, Polly has been on the floor painting, instead of on the couch with me. Katy sits with me now. Where Polly made me feel naturally comfortable, Katy\u2019s energy is much more critical and dark. Not saying that she is a dark person, just her aura isn\u2019t the fluorescent shade that Polly projects. It\u2019s much more Chagall, I guess. Losing Polly is a big loss and I don\u2019t think they know it. I hate feeling like someone else in my life is gone. I don\u2019t know. I feel lost. Why? Because Polly\u2019s energy was a guiding force for me and now I know it\u2019s going to be gone. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
We have this new patient, Lindsey Manchu. She\u2019s a doctor. A surgeon, no less. From Miami. She\u2019s another primadonna, so we\u2019ll see how this goes. Not that she\u2019s not nice. She is. She wanted to chat with me at dinner and she\u2019s very affirming. I wonder if she does GAC. I need an FFS consultation. I\u2019m going to dig further. Right now, she\u2019s on the phone buying some sort of skin care product. She has ultra short hair and pretty sure she\u2019s done a fair amount of plastic surgery. No hate. Also, her skin kind of glows, she must know her shit. I bet she can give all sorts of skin care advice. I know Drs. hate giving free advice, but she keeps talking about being a doctor, so she clearly wants me to know. She answers her phone and uses it in the group room, while we\u2019re all in there. I guess she just has a swagger to her step, that of a south floridian cosmetic surgeon. Maybe I\u2019m wrong. She\u2019s a strange one though, so I naturally like her. Very tall, very pretty. Drinking her supplement when she can\u2019t eat. She\u2019s the first person besides me that I\u2019ve seen doing that. I could definitely use that FFS consult. Like, just tell me if it\u2019s worth it. Tell me the best surgeon in the U.S of A and refer me over. Do they have a payment plan? My credit sucks, but I\u2019ll have disposable income here soon. She is texting someone again. Voice to text, very specific in her instructions to whomever she\u2019s having to pick up her very special lotion (a Dr.\u2019s office.) They close at 3:30PM. A local cosmetic surgeon. Things are lining up. I think I might be right. She\u2019s broke. Her credit cards are all maxed out and she doesn\u2019t get paid until the end of the month. No money, but asking her family member to pay for the products. Also, I guess her hair will fall out if she doesn\u2019t get some rogaine. That\u2019s a fucking bitch. What a nightmare. That\u2019s like me and my razor. I get it. She\u2019ll pay them back via wire. Not a check, not Zelle or Venmo, she\u2019s going to wire that MF\u2019r. That\u2019s the mark of someone who knows how to send large amounts of cash. Bless her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dr. Parsley is walking by and grabbing everyone but me. I have to be brave. I have to ask about the Vyvanse. I know he\u2019s going to be dick about it. Maybe not, but probably. I was hoping Nancy would grab me instead. She\u2019s less intimidating. I just want my refill, is that so wrong? Fuck, I feel anxious! Why? Because I just drank a milk shake and my stomach hurts. I\u2019m light headed and I have a sense of impending doom. It sucks. What\u2019s going to happen next? Why can\u2019t things just stay the same for a while.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I feel unlovable, again, today. Every time Danielle does something fucked up, it reminds me that a person that once loved me now sees me as some sort of enemy. I\u2019m not the enemy. I\u2019m not the bad guy. I wanted to remain friends. She couldn\u2019t handle being friends. With us, it\u2019s always been all or nothing. But she knows me so well and I know she\u2019s planning something big to fuck with me. She won\u2019t just let me go, it\u2019s like she has to maintain control over me in some way or another. WTF? What the hell happened. I miss the old her so much. I trusted that person with every fiber of my being. Every ounce of my blood. All my heart and soul. And she\u2019s gone. Michael may be dead, but so is Danielle. This is not the person I fell in love with, twice. She would never have allowed the Charlie Kirk text or tried to besmirch my name. She would have jumped in front of a semi truck to save me. She would never have left her daughter\u2019s side. She came to town and cared more about the cat than seeing her child. WTF. It\u2019s like a nightmare come true and I can\u2019t wake up. She tried to get me kicked out of the treatment she insisted I get. She just wants to spite me. It\u2019s such shit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I had strange dreams again last night. I was at my childhood home. Brandon kept trying to call me and come over. But Mom was there. Eric was there, too, and he kept threatening to out me. Mom found out about Brandon and freaked the fuck out. It\u2019s strange because she\u2019s been pretty good to me since I told her I was trans. She tries to use my name and pronouns. She\u2019s been very supportive. But she\u2019s still a southern baptist. They are among the hate groups according to the SPLC. Not that SPLC is super credible, but they can be taken with a grain of salt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Looks like Chris\u2019s group isn\u2019t super popular today. Chris and just a handful of people scattered around the group room. Lily is in the group room. She’s the head of something, a middle management type. She nods in agreement a lot, but I don\u2019t think she has much sway for making anything happen. She does seem genuine though. I want to go to group, but the anxiety is just too much.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Lindsey is still going on about the products she needs to survive treatment here. When she calls various places, she says that she\u2019s in town for about 4 weeks. I wonder if that\u2019s a real timeline. Has she met with any of her team yet? A month is ambitious. I wish her well though. She keeps telling her family members that\u2019s picking up all these important products, where to get them. Like they can\u2019t just read the text chain and figure it out. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I don\u2019t want to take clonazepam. It will just make me sleepy and worthless. I don\u2019t want to feel anxious and I want to participate in group. It\u2019s just too much right now. Snacks are becoming hard, too. It used to just be the meals that I hated, but as Courtney has stacked up the calories on me, it\u2019s made even morning snack suck. I had this milk shake. The same strawberry shake I drink every day. There are no good options, so at least it\u2019s liquid. But it\u2019s a gazillion calories, I know it. And our goals are just not the same. Honestly, I\u2019m in my target weight zone. I\u2019m at the low end of my average BMI and I want to stop here. I want to work on maintaining the weight, not ramping up the weight gain. I\u2019ll probably start restricting again if she increases the meal plan again. If they\u2019re fucking me on Vyvanse, then I\u2019m done anyways. I\u2019ll pace and stop eating completely. They\u2019ve manipulated me into eating by holding that med over my head, so literally, it\u2019s all they have on me. Take my meds and I\u2019ll stop eating and stop caring. I\u2019ll stop trying. I will have failed and they\u2019ll either have to give me a new team or send me elsewhere. I don\u2019t trust any of them, <\/p>\n\n\n\n
What am I feeling? Distrusting. Why? Because they haven\u2019t really shown themselves to be trustworthy to me. They keep making changes without my consent and against my goals. Why should I trust any of them? Alana was the last one I trusted, but she kicked me out of my room this week in front of the entire unit and it embarrassed the hell out of me. I wanted to cry. I still do, being honest. I told her I was having a lot of anxiety and didn\u2019t want to be around my peers. I mean opposite action and all, but in this case, it just made me feel worse. I know how much peer group I can tolerate. The energy is high and I have low energy right now, so it makes things unbearable. I feel bad missing the group. I can see Rose smiling and trying and I am in the hallway. I\u2019m not pacing right now, but if I stop writing, I will. What a fucking mess my head is.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There are two parts of me that want to get better. Juniper\u2019s person is one. She misses me, I know it. I have to better about calling her at night. I know she waits for it every night and is upset if I don\u2019t. I feel guilty. I can do better. She deserves to hear my voice. We only get one hour of physical contact per week. It\u2019s not nearly enough. We just fell asleep holding each other this week. I wish I could hold her right now. I miss her so much. She makes my life worth living. She\u2019s the reason for not giving up. I see her pictures and I remember to try. I ask her to do her best, I have to do my best, too. The things I\u2019ve asked her to do since she was tiny were impossible and yet, here we are and she\u2019s crushing goals and thriving. I owe her the same. I have to be healthy so I can be in her life. I need my brain to heal. I need to be open to what Drs. say. I have to get better, I don’t have a choice. This is do or die.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And then there\u2019s me and my wants and needs. I got a new GAC doctor during my stay here and we briefly talked about surgery. In order to be considered a candidate, I have to be stable. Mentally well. That\u2019s the trick, isn\u2019t it? I can\u2019t remember a time when my brain wasn\u2019t sick any more. Going back to being 12 or 13, I just felt like an alien. Like something was wrong. Like I was somehow different, and not in a good way. In a way that I was meant to be ashamed of and feel bad about. I hated being a teen. I hated puberty, but I didn\u2019t know why. I hated my body. I hated my hair. I hated my clothes. I hated all of it. I just didn\u2019t know why. If the whole gender identity thing is just a Russian mind virus, like Elon says, then it sure does explain a lot. The thing is, the whole trans thing goes back to the beginning of time. They just didn\u2019t have a name for it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I don\u2019t feel well. I feel groggy and like I\u2019m soaked in gasoline, ready to explode with any little spark. I don\u2019t want to have these thoughts, but these thoughts persist. Is a healthy brain even possible for someone like me? I follow all the advice. I do therapy. I take the drugs. And yet, the darkness persists. It\u2019s not all the time or at least I don\u2019t think that way all the time. But whenever I find my brain is understimulated, it\u2019s overrun with these thoughts and emotions. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Here I am, in a cute little white dress and cardigan. Nearly everyone on the unit has made a nice compliment to me. But I feel like a freak. I question every day, should I have left well enough alone. But I wasn\u2019t well. I wasn\u2019t getting out of bed. I didn\u2019t have any motivation. Now I\u2019m at least motivated to be the best parent I can be to Juniper. I\u2019m in a fortunate position where I\u2019m going to be able to care for her for as long as she wants me around. I\u2019m proud of that. She no longer has a Mom, her Mom is now a crust punk scenester or something. They don\u2019t make good moms I guess. She blames me for everything. But let\u2019s examine the facts. This non-sense started well before the transition. She was becoming mean and hateful. She was berating and criticizing me for at least one or two years before I even considered HRT. So wanted to escape, but she needed some way to make her not be the bad guy. And let\u2019s face it, she\u2019s a pretty bad dude. The DARVO thing is so fucking real. Projection is so fucking real. I wasn\u2019t lying to her, she was lying to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Let\u2019s talk progesterone. EVERY SINGLE PERSON I\u2019VE TALKED TO said I did nothing wrong getting the script. They\u2019ve all said the same thing. It was my care and I have final say. I didn\u2019t lie. I didn\u2019t mislead. I really did want to have a conversation about it with her, before I started taking it. I know these things to be true, regardless of what she says. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
She, however, did mislead me. She encouraged me to start HRT. She found the clinic and she insisted I go to the first appointment. Even when I said I didn\u2019t want to, she insisted. She didn\u2019t say anything about leaving me or divorce or splitting up the family. She didn\u2019t say she isn\u2019t attracted to women (anymore). She said it was something I must do, because it was going to continue to be a nagging force in my life until I did it. How fucked up is that? She misled me. She\u2019s the liar here. Despite what she says. Alana told me to challenge these thoughts, because these are the thoughts that are holding me back. Well here I am. I challenge you, THOUGHTS. I didn\u2019t lie and I didn\u2019t cross any boundaries simply by asking her to talk with me, again, about progesterone. That NP was super pushy and I could have been stronger. But the regime has shown pretty significant results. If she didn\u2019t want me to have a new body, she should have talked about that with me before I went to the first appointment. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Now let\u2019s talk about sex. We had sex several times after I started HRT. At the time, my testosterone was still in low-normal cis male ranges. So the idea that I somehow magically morphed over night into a woman that couldn\u2019t fuck is just silly. Like, physiologically, it\u2019s just not true. In fact, my testosterone stayed in cis male range for months after starting HRT. She\u2019s full of shit. Period. I did nothing wrong.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I told her on the way to the first appointment that our marriage was the most important thing in the world to me. That I would never do anything to jeopardize that. In one ear and out the window, I guess. Because at no point did she mention that this could tear us apart. I thought we were stronger. I thought we could trust each other more.But it was quite clear from the beginning that this was just an excuse to get away. One more thing to blame me for and use as an excuse to push me away. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
That\u2019s the heart breaking part, I guess. Watching my love slip away. Watching my voice become mute. Knowing that the person that promised to love me no matter what now doesn\u2019t want to love me any more. But let\u2019s examine the facts again. She was being abusive, going back several years before the transition. Back when Janet was still part of our lives. She was being so hateful. She was becoming more and more like her father. Controlling, degrading and abusive. She only hit me on three or four occasions, but it was escalating. Maybe she knows that deep down. I don\u2019t know. OMG! The anxiety of feeling these feelings makes me want to cry. I can feel it in my face and stomach. I want to crawl into the fetal position and bawl like a child. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
It isn\u2019t my fault. I have to remember that. That\u2019s what the therapists keep telling me. It isn\u2019t my fault. She was the abuser. My responses were those of an abused person. It\u2019s hard to believe, because society tells me I\u2019m wrong. The police say I\u2019m wrong. Her lawyer says I\u2019m wrong. All of her wonderful friends say I\u2019m wrong. Her sisters say I\u2019m wrong. All of these people know that her brain is sick. But they still say I\u2019m wrong. That\u2019s a lot of people saying I\u2019m wrong. How am I supposed to believe that I\u2019m right when everyone and Danielle say I\u2019m wrong. I guess because they don\u2019t have the objective facts. I\u2019ve shared the story as honestly and best that I can remember with my therapists and psychiatrists, etc. And they tell me that Danielle lives in her own world. That she has cluster III behaviors. Her brain is sick. The lithium was keeping her brain in check and now she\u2019s off lithium because it was killing her kidneys. The new drugs they\u2019ve tried don\u2019t work. They never did. I just didn\u2019t know what I was looking for or how to get that information to Judy. She stopped listening and trusting me, so no matter what I said, she wasn\u2019t going to get the right kind of help. Her sick brain kept her from going to the hospital a few months ago. Maybe for the best, god only knows what she would have said. Her sick brain is preventing her from seeing how cruel she is. Not just to me, but to her daughter. It\u2019s such a sad story, and the ending hasn\u2019t been written yet, but it\u2019s looking like a tragedy. Heartbreak and despair. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I feel so sad right now. Why? Because my heart is missing the piece that made it feel whole. She was my true love and she\u2019s gone. And I still grieve every day. I grieve in anxiety and panic. I grieve in my dreams. I grieve for our child. I grieve for the connection we shared. It\u2019s a powerful connection. And I still feel her every single day. I still feel the anger that she holds for me. The resentment and even the hatred she has for me. It\u2019s awful. I want to close that chapter, but how can I when she haunts my dreams, night after night. When she jabs at my heart with her hateful words to others. When she paints a landscape of her world that is of another universe, where her actions are justified, but mine are not. I cry inside day and night. I want this pain to stop. I\u2019ve been sitting with it long enough. How long must I grieve? I fear a thousand years, should i still be breathing, wouldn\u2019t take away this pain and discomfort. This void left by lost love. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
How do I feel? Broken. Why? Because I\u2019m missing my person, even though my person was cruel and abusive to me. I still miss her. I always will. This is one part of me that can never completely heal. I am broken in a sense. There isn\u2019t a remedy in the world that can take this hurt. I just have to carry it and push through it. I have values. I have goals. Focus on those.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I am feeling drained. Just drained. All the company, which I’ve really grown accustomed to, is really pushing at my introvert pretty hard. I just want to retreat. I want to hide. I want to go home. Why? Because \u201cthat\u2019s just how god made me.\u201d Too many people and too much conversation. And my friend is leaving. And I\u2019m sad. And I don\u2019t want to sleep, because I won\u2019t want to wake up. I\u2019m actually not panicking, but I do get very drowsy. I fell asleep in group at least twice, maybe thrice this week. Community is my least favorite group. Process is my second least favorite. We just had a process group that sounded a lot like community. I hate hearing everyone disgruntled. The negativity spreads really quickly and can kill the vibe on the whole unit and makes it feel less recovery focused. It\u2019s like a cancer that eats us from the inside out. I\u2019ve seen it happen my second week here. And now, it\u2019s happening again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I\u2019m drained because my pace of recovery sucks. It\u2019s slow. But they keep pushing me to go faster.I don\u2019t want to though. I\u2019m not ready, at all. I can barely choke down a grilled cheese and some cucumbers. I\u2019m rocking and swaying like a crazy person just to make it through the meal. Rock back and forth, side to side. Starfish breath. Distract. Distract. Contexto and \u201cGot It.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I won contexto for the first time today. I usually get us close and Rachel goes in for the kill. But it clicked for me today. It\u2019s not a fish, it\u2019s something to do with catching the fix. You need: a fishing pole (two words, can\u2019t be it), a boat (maybe), BAIT. Dr. Lindsey Manchu got annoyed at my answer, but guess the fuck what. I was right bitch. STFU. I own contexto. I used to hate it. But I\u2019ve gotten much better at it. There\u2019s usually a breakthrough answer that gets us close. Anything under 100 and we\u2019re getting there. Top 10 and it\u2019s only a matter of guesses. Rachel can bring it home most days.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We bitch and moan about the meal time shit. And it\u2019s not because the meals are that intolerable. It\u2019s because they make us sit and wait after we eat. \u201cSit with the discomfort\u201d, they say. But that\u2019s the worst part of the whole process. And depending on which tech is working, we wait for supplements. Usually 10-15 minutes extra. Sitting. Staring. Maybe there\u2019s a game. Maybe not. Initials, we\u2019re kind of bored with that one. I like Got It, but only if Polly starts the game with me. Then it\u2019s almost guaranteed to be the most random 2 things we can think of, and maybe even a little edgy. It makes everyone laugh and some two people find a bizarre stretch of an association. It\u2019s funny. We\u2019ll sometimes go for 10 minutes before we get close enough to actually find the right matching word. But, that\u2019s only when Polly plays. Some days or nights they aren\u2019t feeling it. I\u2019m the same. It just depends on the stress level of the meal or the day. Polly will be gone very soon. What are we gonna do? I feel like no one is going to get my weird sense of humor and no one will laugh with me. It\u2019s so stupid. I hate change. I hate how fast they made it through this stage of treatment. I love it for them, I just hate it for all of us. We\u2019re going to suffer. But they will thrive. But here I am and I can barely choke down my grilled cheese and cucumbers. I tried the veggie lasagna the other night and could barely eat 2 bites. The texture, the taste. All that cream and cheese. EWW. Why did I even pick that meal? Stupid. Should have picked buttered noodles. That would have been manageable. Instead I had to supplement and I swore no supplement this week. Ugh. Another failure. I didn\u2019t restrict, but it\u2019s almost as bad. And that shit tastes worse week over week. I can barely tolerate it now. And WTF is up with my Vyvanse. That\u2019s literally the only reason I’m eating. Someone needs to fix this shit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I guess I deserve a tongue lashing or something. Rooms weren\u2019t ever locked this morning. And while I didn\u2019t take advantage of that this morning, I did for the afternoon group. I just couldn\u2019t do another group. Call me a criminal or a slacker. Call me whatever you want. But I didn\u2019t want to participate in a group today. Just the environment was too much for me. I barely made it through lunch and snack. I wasn\u2019t about to sit through an interactive session, where I\u2019d probably get talked over anyways. That\u2019s been a thing with the new admits and honestly, it\u2019s fine.I don\u2019t have that much to add anyways. The groups have become repetitive and honestly, I just don\u2019t want to be there. I\u2019d rather be writing or pacing or literally anywhere else.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You know what? I\u2019ve worn this cardigan three times and this is the first time anyone noticed it. I definitely stole the thunder today. Susan changed. Polly changed. No one else even bothered to show up. Yeah! Thunder!. I wouldn\u2019t have stolen Polly\u2019s thunder on purpose. Plenty of days ahead without them here. So why not just wait until one of those days to be all thunder stealing. My bad. I didn\u2019t do it on purpose, I swear. I did it because I thought everyone was going to be in some ridiculous onesie. On Polly, it\u2019s cool and child-like. Like letting their inner child shine through. When the others did it last week, it was dumb. Rose and Kiersi could pull it off, but Jim just felt\u2026 awkward. Like someone was holding a gun to his head and forcing him to wear the damn thing. Maybe they were. How did they get a gun in here?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dinner time. I hope it\u2019s not gross. I\u2019m so tired of lifting that plastic lid only to discover something inedible. What the fuck was I thinking when I picked some of this shit. PB&J I\u2019ll tolerate. Anything else, including a cold quesadilla just seems, bluhugh. And do you know what I\u2019m trying to not have for dinner. Bluhugh. Do you know what I\u2019ll probably have? Some kind of steamed broccoli or a dinner salad and a cold quesadilla. Did I mention that it\u2019s probably going to be cold and gross. The suspense is killing me. No, the food is killing me. No, my brain is killing me. NO, I AM KILLING ME. Stop with the negative self talk, it only brings us down further.gotta stay positive. Gotta stay smart. Gotta keep moving. Focus on your values and don\u2019t let the world bring you down. I gotta pee.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I\u2019ve been here for 7 weeks or something like that and I just started journaling like 3 days ago, maybe. And I filled up a full notebook. Not going too deep or trying to be introspective. Just spilling out the thoughts that fill up my head. Something about pen to paper really helped with the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-7","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-journal-entry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/okclara.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/okclara.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/okclara.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/okclara.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/okclara.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=7"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/okclara.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9,"href":"https:\/\/okclara.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7\/revisions\/9"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/okclara.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=7"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/okclara.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=7"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/okclara.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=7"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}