I don't think my sleeping meds are working anymore. I'm not sleeping. You'd think a trazadone as big as a fucking horse pill would get me to sleep, but no. I lie in bed and think about California.
Just think about Northern California for a minute. Was there ever a place so magical? I mean, we have the biggest tree in the world. The biggest tree in the world! That is god damn amazing. What does Florida have? The biggest water park in the world, maybe? What the fuck ever.
Yesterday I asked a violent felon to straighten my hair. These things happen. One day you have a husband and a cat and beautiful friends all around you, the next day a girl fresh out of prison is wielding something dangerous right next to your ears.
Anyway, my hair looks really great straightened. The balminess of Florida combined with my Halloween bleach job has really screwed up my curls and I was looking a little berserk. But the fact that it looks good straightened is also a problem because now I'm actually going to have to DO it all the time. And every time someone says "Oh, you're hair looks so good straightened!" I feel like they're saying "You're hair usually looks like shit, you fat bitch." And, really, isn't hair straightening something that terribly NORMAL girls do? And why is a very minor hair procedure causing me so much angst, anyway?
I know I keep reiterating this, but seriously, I am SO DONE with these people. We went to Target (again, again, again) and someone got busted shoplifting? I mean, come on. We're in a treatment facility! Why can't you just try to act normal for one second?! You have to believe me, I am feeling very violent. I want to bite and punch and kick (mostly bite). I'm sad to say that I have felt violent in this way before and actually lost it and hurt people, so at least I'm not actually DOING anything. But I've never wanted to lash out so bad, especially not over an extended period of time. Shut up you absolutely selfish morons! I swear to God, if nothing else, I am going to be a hell of a lot less self-absorbed when I get out of this stupid place.
This morning Jon called again at an ungodly hour. The talk was extremely intense and included bits about dancing to dub-step and the movie "Fantastic Mr. Fox", as they relate to our relationship. I was crying like hell, but more about not wanting to be here and being so utterly fed up and knowing it isn't working and wanting to be with the people I love than what was going on in the conversation. Although it did make me feel so, so much regret. How could I have let things get to this point? How could I have done this to myself, and my husband? I'm always confused when people say they have no regrets. How can that be? I regret, like, more than half of my whole life, I swear.
Despite all that, talking to Jon actually did make me feel hopeful. I know I've said this before, only to be sent into pits of despair after the next conversation (not necessarily Jon's fault!). But that doesn't matter. I need to be in the present. So for now, it's OK.
I worked out for the first time in like a week. I started a new painting in art therapy. I went to two groups and participated and got at least minor elucidation out of them, even if a lot of my energy was spent keeping myself from screaming at people to shut up. Seriously though, people. Shut up.