This is me. If i were Ed Sheeran.

This video is what DXM feels like ro me.   And I love it, but I can do it without it. That is the point.  MANANA, rehab, seedling restart.  All the voices in my mind... are ready to SING!!

https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&source=web&rct=j&url=http://m.youtube.com/watch%3Fv%3DK4Udv9qgOWU&ved=0CB4QyCkwAGoVChMIn_v8qYvJxwIVwpQeCh0kOgzl&usg=AFQjCNGa3WEkdN-2JHs15RhAZonDHDhENw

Buddy Movie

Its like a buddy road trip movie, except that the buddy is me and we only travel in our head.  bur otherwise its excellent!!!!!!  So basically that mean to viewer on the outsidfe::   Crazy heavy freckled grirl laughing and taking to herself as she lays in a hammock in the bright orange sunlight.  And alsoo crazy freckled gril doing stuff with herse3fl like a schzo, but I am not schizo I am dissociative. :)

Happy

I am completely and utterly dissocaied now.  and I dont care, wich is coool.  so I am letting this go out as it is.   because this is the truth.   the truth is messy and gross and incorect grammaticallly.   I am watching Girls and I am very happy about the seond season.   They are telling the truth about class and fame and whoring and the lines that blur between them.  I love it. love it. love it.  i am so fcking out of it right now that ovviouadsly i cant type for shit.  but i am safe.  i am in my pretty apt with green grass and sunlight and a hammock.   Safe.  And we paid the rent and made sure there was enough money in the account for the check to clear even though it wont cleear for like a week and a half.  He always takes forever to cash the check.  but that is cool, becuasue the point is when you write the check, you have the money. DONE. via GABRIEL.

Also we own the internet at this place now.  Whooot!!!!!!!!!! We fucking rock!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  We did the thing Nancy does on Weeds.  We did what Jessa does on Girls.  We just took what was ours and were fari about it and 1YATTYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY.  And fuck them if they try to fuck with us. Chesire Grin

some new rules?

ok, so we are trying to figure out how to dissociate when we are not high.  So we've heard that we have to have an hour of alone naked time in the house to run and scream around  per day.  Ok.   Will do, although there was a quyeasy feeling in my stomach just then , but I think its ok.  be in the sunlight more!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

okeydokey.  sunlight more.  alone.  we need alone sunlight time.  Is the hammock safe enough? No, because of the fucking neighbors.  fich.  well we'll work on that.  laying in the grass.  not the hammock.   ok

gabriel is gay. he likes boys.  we just figured that out.  victoria likes girls. problem.   not a huge problem, but a funny one.  i say.  who is i?

snyder park was a safe place. we need to go there i guess. no place else workds.  ok.  done..once a day? thats a lot.  Yeah, vut what the fuck else are we doing? serisously?  Yeah, I gueass you're right.

tired, movies.  yessssssssssssssssssssssssss.

So This Is Why We Dissociate

So I am zoned to the universe on DXM in a beautiful angry orange sunlight place.  And I'm Like lets do this. This is wh we sissocdiate.  we let it go . or soething . idosn know ifi can type fast enough to get this all down.  I am in the moment of NO.  NO orange beautiful blasting out.   i want it to be  world where there3 is no fuckin g need for NO, but that is not the world we live in.  Orange is the New Black F*cksgiving  That is it.  They captured it perfectly.  its amazimg.  piper says you CANT HAVE ME, YOU COULD NEVER HAVE ME. or something like that.  she screams it out in a total seemingly dissociative state and then confirms it by having sex with Vause when she gets out of SHU.  And then the audience gets all excited about a  love triangle, lesbian sex, blah , blah.  BUT THAT IS NOT THE FUCKING POINT

THE POINT IS, THAT YOU DON'T OWN ME.  YOU WILL NEVER OWN ME, AND YOU WILL NEVER WIN.  I AM ME.  I LOVE ME.  I CLAIM ME.  I CLAIM ME AND ALL ME NEEDS TO BE HAPPY., not too much stuff.  But enough to be FUCKING HAPPY.  So BASICALLLY, FUCK OFF, WORLD,  I AM GOING TO BE A GREEN VEGETARIAN POET WITH A DRUM AND A GUITAR AND A TRUCKLOAD OF MATH AND  BASIC CHEMISTRY KNOWLEDGE AND i AM GOING TO LIVE HOW I WANT TO LIVE.  WITH BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE GETTING OVER THEIR PAIN BY PAINTING AND DANCING AND SINGING AND RUNNING...... and yoga :)  and I want to live a healthy life creating stuff? (dont know what yet) helping people figure systems out, because I am incredibly good at that.  I can figure a system like nobody's business.  SO.  LET'S GET FIGURING!!!!

i love you jeanette.

It's my official coming out party, damnit.

OK, so another fun filled weekend of DXM and drug induced dissociation.  And I have officially had enough.  I freaked at 11pm last night and called both therapists and left messages and was completely out of control.  Which is fine, if I weren't fucking HIGH.  Actually its fine even if I was high, but it's not what I want to be doing.  Summer did a great job of talking me through it last night though.  She also called me on the getting high.  I have to get the info when I am sober or it is tainted.  I have to internally communicate everyday and accept that I have D.I.D.  I have DID.  I have it.  I do.  It's time to finally fucking accept this.  It's over.  It's beginnning.  I have it. I have it. We have it.  We have it. We have it. :)

So who's here?  Gabriel, of course.  He's me most of the time.  Him and Victoria.  And Allison Lee.  And the little one with her cap of black hair.  And a little boy.  And a baby.  Gabriel and Victoria are groups.  Groups of parts?  Still working it out.  Allison Lee is part of Victoria.  I think.  She's the smiler.  Real smile.  Victoria is the Chesire grin.  But she does it for everyone.  We were doing the chesire grin at the beginning of therapy today.  We were so embarrassed about calling Ryan fucking high.  But he was cool with it.  I love him.  He is so good at his job.  Yay! I am going to miss him. 

Man, I got caught.

I am forcing myself to sit and write this.  This is like when J says she has to do things bit by bit, dragging herself inch by inch to do them.  This is that.  I don't want to write about this, mostly because I am not use to it, it is stretching, it is uncomfortable.  But it has to be done.  Now is the time.  It is time to write about stuff, when I am not fucked up.

I got caught on the phone last night with a new butterfly friend named E.  We were talking, doing the therapy story swap when she asked if I was high.  I immediately snapped as back to reality as I could, and said "there is absolutely nothing wrong with me."  So I lied.  Panic, then immediate shut down about that topic set in.  She let it go, so I guess she believed me, or she didn't and she just allowed me to lie.  But that is not OK.  She is also a trauma survivor and I cannot lie to her about reality.  It is absolutely unethical.  So I am going to tell her the truth today when we meet for the first time for dinner.  Yay, great.  I am a fucking asshole.

I've been mulling this over in my head every spare moment since it happened, and that's why I'm writing, because I need to process this BEFORE I talk to E, not WITH E.  I don't know her that well yet, and it would be innapropriate and unfair, and immediately fuck up our new friendship boundaries, and I don't want to do that.  So maybe I'm not the right friend for her right now.  And if she decides that, that would be fine, I have to be fine with it.  It does not mean I am a bad person, but just not healthy enough for her.  And I don't want to be perpetrating my crap on her.  It is not fair to her.

I'm also almost gleeful that somebody FINALLY fucking caught me.  I didn't know this, but I was waiting to be caught.  And this is where this stuff gets personal and vulnerable.  I think I am using DXM to test dissociation vs reality?  Like, if I can handle everything on DXM, then I can handle anything?  Or maybe, if I can handle life while on DXM, I can allow myself to dissociate in real life (in safe supportive setting)?  That's it.  I am so fucking afraid of appearing "crazy" or "out of control" or "not rational" that I have a major steel fucking door on anything that seemed irrational, which included allowing voices in my head telepathically telling me something.  So I shut that shit DOWN.  And I learned to concentrate.  CONCENTRATE. To the point of a laser beam.  So nothing could distract me.  And for the most part on the surface at least, nothing ever did distract me.  It worked.  Welcome physicist Civil Engineer.

But now through 3.5 fucking years of INTENSE fucking therapy with many different people, but mainly L, I have learned it is safe to let go.  If you learn when it's safe, when it's the right time.  Because it isn't always the right time.  But my problem was more that I NEVER let go, rather than letting go in the wrong places, which seems to be what is the problem for most other butterflies I've met.

And with DXM it is so easy to get to that open, creative sweet spot.  Without it I have to....  what .... I guess I have to concentrate, hah.  I have to let go.  I have to allow myself to be silly and make intuitive leaps that may not seem normal or rational.  And it is not being crazy.  It is being creatively co-consciously altered.  It is being a healthy butterfly.  Without drugs, and without being crazy.  It is NOT crazy.  People may look at me weird, but that's because they don't understand.  And I think that has been what I've been doing in therapy, learning exactly what dissociation is and isn't, completely and thoroughly, enough so that I could teach it to someone else.  And that someone else I was teaching was me. 



Wow.  OKay, so back to E. What is the gameplan?  What is enough and appropriate to tell her and what is a boundary violation to a new friendship?  OK. 1. Tell her she was right about me being high.  Validate reality.  2. Apologize that you lied to her, because you understand that invalidating a trauma survivors reality is extremely wrong.  3. Tell her you are working on it, and promise never to talk to her high again without telling her.  4. Tell her you are working on the problem, that you take it seriously, but it is not completely under control yet.  5. So, with this info if she thinks its not safe to be around me, I perfectly understand.  I am see-sawing trying to figure healthy out, and I'm going to even out eventually, I'm just not totally there yet.

If she wants to know what I think about it:
I think I can be a good friend to her.  I can watch my boundaries.  I will utmostly respect her path to getting better.  But I honestly don't know.  That's the truth, I don't know what's right.

What I don't need to tell her about:  why I do DXM.  My personal science experiment with DXM.  No talking about the creative sweet spot with her.  No talking about dissociation too much with her.  I can later, but not today.  We don't have enough intimacy yet.  We ARE NOT IN THERAPY together.  There is a difference, although right now I am having a hard time figuring out what that difference is.  She does not need to know every thought that is in your head.  You are not lying if you are not telling her every thought in your head.  That is not deceit.  That is technique.  Your insightlfulness can hurt people, including yourself, if wielded at the wrong time, just as if you were carrying around a sword, an epee.  Very useful tool, but you can't just slash it around like you've been doing.  Which is Ok, you are learning.   But really, you seem to have a talent that others either don't have or don't admit to having, and just like if you were an X-men, you have to learn to wield your power correctly.  Really, it is just like the laser beam eye guy.  Except you have to build your own glasses to control the beam yourself.  And you are.  Yay.  Cool, in this metaphor, L is Dr. X.  I'll have to tell her. :)

I'm doing therapy when I do DXM

That's pretty much it.  I am toooooooooooooooooooooooooooo scared of this shit in regular chemical land, so I go to DXM land to do it.  But it is becoming absurd.  Because I know what I'm doing, the curtain is pulled back, the wizard is revealed.   You use drugs to think about things you don't want to think about when your brain is normal.  You are afraid you will die, I guess?  Or that you won't get it right?  We have to

 I N T E G R A T E

Trauma world with the fucking real world.  Integrate Trauma world with real world. integrate trauma world with the real world.  then we would not need DXM, but we are being a little bit of a chickenshit and will not do this without the fucking drug.  you need to be fuckind dead fucking sober and call your mother out.  Not to her face.  But to yourself.  And mayber your therapist, and a friend.  Because DXM land is possible in the real world.  its called facing the truth.  Serioulsy, I think thats what we've been doing this whole time.  We've been fucking frankenstein manhattan projecting this shit, trying to chemically get our brain in the right frame, the right ecology to understand and believe these truths.  Because we are a scientist first, (slowly changing to scientist/poet, but whatever) we fucking experimented with ourselves to cushion the blow?  It's not that simple.  We were not capable of hearing it any other way, or else we would have done it that way.  This is the way we found.  It's  not perfect.  By a long fucking shot, thank you Gina,Brian, Michele, Jeanette, Chris, etc.  But it is a workable solution right now, and I guess thats why I'm not stopping.


WHOAH

Fuck. I am not stopping.   BECAUSE IT FUCKING WORKS. i can access things very much more easily than when i'm regular.  When I'm sober, to get in the same state I have to feel safe and free.  Hah.  So... That means that I have to be alone in the woods but knowing support is available, with sunlight and privacy, and no shame.  I have to be able to do or say or dance or speak or type or fart or whatever I need to do with no shame... 

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiitttttt.  I just called myself out.  I don't need a big 3 fucking ring circus.  I need time, privacy, support, aloneness, nature, basic needs (ie food, shelter, in a nice way, etc), sunshine, growing things, water, and time.   And then more time to record what I just went through.  Record the thoughts.  Write them., sing them, dance them? :), whatever.  So. again. Support. Green beautiful nature. Aloneness. Privacy, no shame. Time. Share with someone, that's it!  Even if it's sharing with yourself.  Share it.  Shout it. Dance it Scream it.  It is the truth and it loves when it's spoken.  The evil is washed out when you say its name.   ......           ......           .....            ....     


That's fucking it.  That's all I need. How did it take this damn long to get here?  I'm joking but not? I had to take every step I took, but it's funny that in the end, it's so simple. 

OK, so I'm peaking on Dxm, and I want to go enjoy it and it's not good for writing anyway.  or maybe itis?  I want Brian to read all of this, if he could continue to be my therapist.  Otherwise I guess, theres not enough time.  It's all coming down tomorrow Yay.  Tellin him everything.

Long Talk with my Bro

My brother and I have been talking for the past coupla months.  Which is a big deal.  Because of the way our mother manipulated us, we have stayed pretty seperate as adults.  So Jem (my bro) has had a helluva month.  He basically has had a trauma breakdown.  And we talk/have talked a lot lately about our childhood and our mother and her behavior.  There is so much I want to say about Jem, but right now, I just need to get down some points that came up in this convo.

1. Mom sat with Jem at a table and said "You have to become a lawyer, it is like a license to steal."  This may not seem like a big deal, who cares.  But it is huge.  Because the mother I know would never say something like that.  So our mother talks to us in different ways.  Meaning she is manipulating us, and is fully aware of doing so.  The Allison/Mother connection would never think "a license to steal" is a good career choice.  We are all about nobility and truth and working hard and making money that way.  And doing good, and being ethical and trustworthy.  So basically, MY MOTHER IS A LIAR, AND QUITE PROBABLY A SOCIOPATH. A PSYCHOPATH, SINCE I NOW KNOW THEY ARE THE SAME THING.  Not just a narcissist, a psychopath.

2.  I found out about yet another time when my mother did not tell me that Jem was sick and had had a suicide attempt.  She has never told me that Jem's problems were that serious, and thus I was never able to support him.  I had NO IDEA how bad it was for him.  NONE.  And I think my Mom deliberately kept the information from me.  She never visited Jem in the hospital, never comforted him.  Nothing.  Angry, anger starting.

3.  Jem just found out that 15 or so years ago, when he was in a relationship with a girl I'll call Mary that Mom did some fucked up stuff.  Mary sent a letter to Jem that she was pregnant, and Mom got her hands on it and Jem never saw it.  Mom then proceeded to attack this young woman (maybe 19) and call her white trash and a gold digger and that she was making it up to get money from Jem.  Mom then paid Mary some amount of money to go away and never talk to Jem again.  16 year old Jem had no idea any of this happened, all he knew was his girlfriend went away and never talked to him again.  He was heartbroken and depressed and started smoking weed.  Which I now understand, probably made mom very happy in her fucked up head.  So fast forward to now (a few months ago), and Mary and Jem connect via Facebook.  Mary asks Jem, what was that all about with your mother? Jem has no idea what she's talking about.  Mary thinks Jem is bsing her, pretending not to know to not take responsiblity, and it takes four or five conversations before the truth becomes clear- the Jem had no idea, and that mom is a monster.

I am very specifically writing these things down so I can take them to my therapist tomorrow.  I am so disgusted and angry that I think I am in intellectualization mode and am numb.  But actually, it may be just acceptance.  My mother is a monster.  I am lucky to have survived.  I hope Jem survives this breakdown part of the trauma fucking path.  I can only suggest to him what I did, which is to cocoon yourself and GO TO THERAPY. He is a different person, so his path will differ.  duh.  I just want him to know that he is lucky to be alive, and that he should pat himself on the back for surviving not only our childhood, but also the past month of shenanigans he has self-harmed hisself through. (I am fully aware of my atrocious grammar).

OK, now I am going to fucking be dark and angry and usefully vengeful and watch "Men Who Hate Women" Swedish version, with the amazing kick ass Noomi Rapace.  GRRRRRRRRRRRR

Do the Work

Fucking fuck.  I don't wanna do the work, but i do wanna do the work, but fuck.  OK, we gotta do the work.  we gotta write the poems.  we've gotta go for the walks.  we gotta fucking do the fucking yoga.  we gotta fucking meditate. fucking meditate. fuck.  we don't wanna.  we wanna do drugs and get high in the sky and teach beautiful theoretical math and fuck the world.  and eat what sugar crap.  but we gotta fucking drag ourselves outta this.   we gotta. we gotta.

We have to do the work.  It's on now, I guess.  It's on.  We are high right now, but I guess it has to stop.  Eventually? (With a Chesire grin?)  Fuck.  Drug Problem.

Drug Problem.

We love the way we feel so much on DXM that we do not want to give it up.  It almost feels like a "gimme" quick cut pull away to me kind of thing.  My precious.  It's MINE, AND I LOVE IT AND FUCK OFF.  fuck. 

And we gotta focus on what the problem is, and actually the problem is not DXM.  The problem is that you are healing from a childhood of SEVERE abuse and mind-fucking and sex abuse and hurt.  And your mother is a very sick person who is not going to be able to go on this journey with you.  And your brother may not be able to go on this journey with you.   He has come a fucking long way, and he may find a way to be happy, but you can't do it for him  I ABSOLUTELY will help him any way that I can, but I can't control  his path.  It would be grotesque to do so.  You are alone.  You are going to make it.  You have to stop doing drugs.  You have to stop doing drugs.  You have to stop numbing reality.  You have to feel the freakiness in real time, not drug time.  You have to feel weird while you are sober.  You have to feel dissociative and wonky while you are sober.  While you are not chemically affected.  It is OK.  It is safe to be dissociative and wonky and sober.  You will not let go and become fully crazy all the time.  You can control it.  It is actually beautiful.  And you can do it.  But although the drug is beautiful and it helps, it hurts you, it is a chemical not meant for your body, it is probably hurting your liver, it is probably hurting your heart muscle, it definitely hurts you ability to have mental perspective and clarity.  Yes, it helps you feel and get to the truth.  It does. I absolutely will not dispute that.  It does fucking WORK.  But it can't be a lifestyle.  And you want it to be a lifestyle.  I do. I want it to be a lifestyle of wonkiness and gut intuition and truth and weirdness and calm and beauty and truth.  I am so scared to do it.

You have to fucking live out loud.  Yeah, that movie.  Cheesy, fuck yeah, but correct.  Live Fucking Out Loud.  You have to.  You can't keep going doing this drug thing.  I mean, you can.  You seem to be handling work, money, therapy and drugs sorta well right now.  You can do it.  You just have to decide is that the life you want?

I've been watching Weeds. Probably a bad idea.  but someone on it said he did all this terrible stuff, just to see if he could get away with it.  And that is sort of how I feel about the DXM.  Like, holy shit, I am dissociated to the fucking moon, high on chemicals and totally living my life.   And it's working just fine.  The only chinks are literally my own truthfulness.  If I didn't go to therapy, if I didn't have a true relationship with my friends, I would be fine!  It's sort of gross.   I could live like this forever.  I'm the one who keeps telling my fucking therapist I'm using drugs.  If I didn't go to therapy there would be no problem.  But I keep fucking going to therapy.  I feel like I need it.

BECAUSE I DO FUCKING NEED IT.  I need to tell my truth and be heard and loved and that is fucking therapy.  OK, I feel like I gotta stop because now I want to defend DXM forever.  OK.  Stop.

"Unsolicited Advice to Adolescent Girls with Crooked Teeth and Pink Hair...

Am I Dr. Watson?

So, I am totally in a spiral of self-hatred, dissociation and shame.  I have been stuck in my house for about 2 months (?) basically eating and watching Netflix and whatever I torrent off the internet.  I am not in a good place.  And no matter how I say it here, I will sound better than I actually am.  I am not good.  3 weeks ago, if I had a gun, I probably would have killed myself.  Ironically, only my depression stopped my suicide.  It was too much work to plan the whole fucking thing, so I slept instead.

I have been watching and "fangirl" ing this TV show I like- Sherlock on BBC.  It is about Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson in the present.  Dr. Watson is a ptsd guy from the Afghanistan war, and he shacks up with Sherlock to solve crimes.  What I love about the show is that Dr. Watson is just like me.  He has nothing, no love, no passion, nothing to live for and as he says in episode 1 to his therapist (!) "nothing ever happens to me."  And then he randomly becomes flatmates with Sherlock and his life begins.  GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODDDDDDDDDDDDDDd.  Please let that happen to me.  I have nothing, no life, nothing.  I feel I am unworthy of even a tumblr account.  I want a Sherlock to come save me.  And I will be the practical human being to his sociopathic/neutral good/asperger's bx.  I just need to be saved.

The beauty of the show Sherlock is basically that they fall in love with each other, without either one knowing what the fuck to do about it.  So they stay platonic work partners that spend every fucking waking moment with each other.  I would be happy with even this fucked up codependent relationship.

I just need help.  Help..  I need love.  And companionship.  But I need to save myself, because no one else can save me.  The idea of a Sherlock is beautiful, but misguided.  I have to be my own Sherlock.  I have to save myself.

PS. After at least a year and a half of abstaining, I got drunk tonight at a lesbian bar and talked to some women.  I even sort of have plans for later in the week.  And let me tell you, I would trade (and did) all the sobriety in the world to have a life. and friendship.  So there.

Taking the Long Way

So a pretty OK day today.  Got up just barely in time for the depression support group and was a few minutes late, but that was fine cause I got there before the facilitator.  The group sort of sucked- some woman (new just like me) came in and hijacked the group, talking about her daughter and how sick with mental illness her daughter was.  She said nothing about herself as a consumer.  It pissed me off, so I said something.  I'm really proud of myself because I said it fairly calmly and coolly.  I told her I thought that this was a group for people with depression, not a parent of someone with bipolar.  I told her that she hadn't said one word about herself, just complaints about a person who is just like me.  (she really did piss me off).  She paused for literally only 5 seconds, then continued on hijacking the meeting.  At one point I interjected again, and the group asked me to share, so I did. I told them about how I feel so lost right now, OMG.  I cannot remember what I said.  Wow, is this a dissociative moment?  I cannot remember, I'm guessing.  I think I talked about how I was unhappy with my life and how non-functional I am, but I can't remember.

Holy Shit!  This is the real deal.  A real proof moment.  I cant remember.  And I was angry at the meeting and I think the angry one was out.  Which is why I can't remember.  This is actually cool.  A real prove it to myself moment.  I am not making this shit up.  This is real.

Which is what Lara has been telling me for a year, but I didn't believe her.  (Well she hasn't really told me I'm dissociative, she just lets me see all the dissociation around me and asks me if it looks familiar.  And she asks me why I'm in group.  And don't I feel at home there?  Why would I feel at home if I didn't fit in, didn't have the same thing everyone else has?)

I'm sitting here trying to remember what happened in the group, but I can't.  Anything else I would write would be a mixture of guessing and fabrication, which I just realized, I think I do a lot.  Holy shit. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.  The angry one was in group!  She's also the charming funny one.  The one that can kick your (and my) ass.   I don't know her name.  I'm pretty sure she's a teenager.  And she hates everybody.  Everybody except Lara and Dr. S.  But now she's hating them a bit because they won't let her back into group.  She want's to tell them to go fuck themselves.  Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I talked to my sponsor today for an hour about.  It was great talking to her.  She helped me a lot.  She understands how hard it is for me right now, and she validated me.  She knows it's hell at first.  Which it was last night.  I couldn't sleep because my inner voice just kept going over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over how bad the program situation is.  How much they all hate me.  How much I hate them right now.  How I am such a horrific, terrible monster because they need to protect groups from me.  At one point I grabbed my head and screamed stop!  IT WAS AWFUL.  I felt like I was going crazy.  That's when I called my sponsor for the second time, still not getting her, only her stupid answering machine.  But she called me back finally tonight.

I love her, love her as a sponsor, but I need someone who is in town more and who picks up their phone when I call (not always me having to leave a message and wait for a call back).  I guess I could have her as a support friend.  I can always call her, but get a sponsor who is in town.  This sucks!  I want R but I she's not perfect!  Ugh!  Oh well.  I guess maybe I'll ask N to be my sponsor.  We'll see.  She keeps not showing up for meetings, and I don't really want that.

I bought diphenhydramine HCL for sleeping (benadryl) tonight.  My body is a little leery of using it, but I don't want the shit going on in my head like last night.  I want to sleep!

OK, tomorrow I'm calling the volunteer place.  Yes I am!  And I will make three calls about Medicare D!  Yay.  I will do it!  I will, because I want to.  But if I don't, that's OK too, because I'm supposed to be being kind to myself and cut myself some slack.  It is OK if I am not super-productive awesomeness all the time :)