Busy day, I"m wiped.

I will need to rest tomorrow.

End of January. Weight, fluctuating between 120 and 125 depending on clothes, if I ate too much, whether or not I poop, or am dehydrated.. I haven't in fact emptied for nearly 2 weeks now. Next weekend perhaps I can go get an icecream or some other high lactose treat to trigger my belly.

Nuff about that.

I had an appointment today with a psych social worker. She only has 8 sessions, and we'll see what all she can do. At the very least she will be able to help with the disability and housing applications. 

I could probably use legal aid to proper divorce dan, but the timing isn't right. At my current income I can't afford to have him not supply propane and pay the phone bill. and sometimes show up with some food.

He brought food I ate yesterday. I overdid it yesterday and met my daily calorie loads. 

It is hard to stay on track. I have things to cheer me up and take my sense of doom less seriously. I'm dead hungry, not the weight loss hunger either, the "hey dumbass, you're shrinking too much" hunger. It's a whole other level and you have to be feeling pretty crappy not to feel it constantly.

After the social worker appointment I went to a drop in center she suggested. She told me they would sit down and let me talk and talk and talk and talk. And She did. A woman working there did exactly that. No clock in the room. No checking her watch or phone. No interrupting or arguing or correcting or gaslighting or shaming or balancing or anythig. She just kept listening. 

I needed thatso hard.

Then she said a bunch of nice things that felt true and it felt good. And I kept going some more. And a bit more. Eventually I wanted to escape. But not urgently, awkwardly. Because I was out, and it wasn't a conversation and I was done using this nice young woman's kindness.

She toured me and I took a bit of the food and sat down and made an origami in the art room.

The whole time I was so conflicted. Not wanting to use up resources but grateful to have these things. She gave me bus passes so the trip home was free and I could come back free.

And the whole time I felt both grateful and scared. Scared I was taking too much.

I feel so bad for me now because of that. That's my mom. Here's a whole plate of cookies, it's for other people but you can take one.

This icecream is too good for you, it's mommy's icecream, sorry,, you can't have any icecream." Funny thing, I didn't care. I wasn't paying attention. I was busy playing. That little bit of theatre was for much later. To remember when I was old enough to understand what she was really doing. Training me to stand at the back of the line, take as little as I can make myself resist taking and shrink away as quietly as possible. Like a wee mouse with no right to a place.

Bitch.

Die bitch die bitch

Yah, joke's going to be on me. Carola gets everything, betcha.

Well there's the lottery tickets.

And I can still accept that magic is just fantasy and I'm dead meat.  

But meantime, friday I have functional assessment starting well before normal hours ought to. I can't complain because the staff got there then too. 

I just have to get up at 5am after not sleeping since 3am. Which is every damn night now. I got back to sleep this morning and caught up.

Telling people what's going on sure reminds me. My tension levels are nuts.

Well so people are doing something. 

I'm finding resources.

I'm still on track though. 

one foot in each world. Which one is real? 

The woman at the drop in leaned in on the magic, smart girl. I had to tell the social worker, never tell me you can't. Just say you'll see, and tell me what you can.

I don't need more pessimism.

Ok, before Dan turns up with propane, time to ship this out.