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Talk to me, someone, please. I lay in my bed; it's 3:14 in the morning, and again, I can't shut my brain. No sleep. What do I do? I've already done the usual, smoked two cigarettes standing at my favorite window, my only window, stood on the window sill and let the cool breeze run through my hair all the while listening to the playlist labeled ‘Melancholie’ on Spotify. There's something about this playlist. It resonates with the inner me, yeah I think that describes it perfectly. Enough about my taste in music. I'm all alone. I have friends, if I could call them that. I've heard that you can talk to your friends about anything but I don't think these are that type of friends, or maybe they are and I'm a total freak. These days I'm inclined to believe the latter. I can't open up to them. There was this girl once I could talk to about anything and she would really listen to me. I felt safe confiding in her. She made me feel special, sane. And I was desperately in love with her. But as you can guess from the tone of this scribbling, it didn't work out. I told her I was ‘madly in love with her’ and asked her if there were any, even if the slightest, reciprocating feelings. She said ‘I’m really sorry but I'm afraid not. I don't know what I did to make you feel that way and if I could take it back I would’. I've never begged anyone in my entire life, save for her. ‘Please’ was my desperate attempt at happiness. It's been 4 years since then and I still remember everything we've ever talked about, word to word. I sometimes play the conversations we've had in my head like an old record player and it brings a smile on my face, followed by days of misery. Yes, I would like to forget about her but after all these years I'm starting to believe it might not be possible. I have not been able to talk to anyone like I used to with her. And here I lay in my bed at 4:11 in the morning hoping I can find someone again. Talk to me, someone, please.

Last night I think I had two distinct dreams although they could have been parts of the same experience. I had to go down to <insert warm location> to help this man with his furniture and carpeting. A woman was there who seemed to be with the man. She agreed that the strange patchwork of carpeting that had apparently been manufactured in natural cat colors wasn't working in the room with a smooth granite countertop that took up the main portion of the room. I had the sensation that we were near water, perhaps we were near a marina and this was the guest house or regular home of the man? I had to leave to pick up an older woman from <insert unknown location>, when I got back I realized that I had taken her back to warm location instead of up north where she needed to go. Rather than fume about being thousands of miles away from where she needed to be she explained that it was no trouble to book a flight back home and proceeded to do some despite my apologies. It was kind of funny how she acted like she was several blocks from home instead of many states away.

In the next dream I was in a drab apartment that had some plants and matted beige carpeting. I think I was in the bathroom when I heard a voice that I recognized. In real life I had talked to a guy several times. It was him, he explained that he had gotten into his car and driven to see me so we could escape. From what I'm not exactly sure, but I took a shower. The next part isn't very clear. We may have gone to a grocery store together, he may have gone alone, there may have been no store in the dream, just products that made me think a store had been involved. He urged me to get ready more quickly, I think we kissed, but that part is as hazy as the bathroom mirror was after my shower. Family members of mine were milling around. I think my dad and one of my sisters were there. In the dingy bedroom I threw clothes together before we headed out. I think we were stopped at the door, but I really couldn't say because that's when I woke up for the day.

I got out of bed after seeing what I thought was light coming from the window. My phone said it was 4:42 so I thought I might try to go back to sleep for a while, but then my skin was so dry and itchy I decided to get up anyways. Last night before I went to bed I slathered oil over every part of my body that I could reach. This morning my skin was still so dry that I did it again and then touched up some spots that were still red and irritated. My skin was this dry when I was out in California, other than that I can't remember it ever being this bad, not even when I had screaming red patches of eczema. Perhaps my memory has faded. Therapy went well this week, my therapist made an extra effort to get me in which I really appreciated. I really liked the new therapists that the girls are seeing although I met the one my youngest is seeing for a brief introduction in the waiting room. I was told her name is Michelle, but my Jane corrected me and called her Shelly. Hopefully that means a connection was made. The therapist my oldest is seeing is named Amanda. 

She's young and very pretty. I wouldn't be able to pull off what she was wearing, casual brown boots, studded and embroidered jeans that fit very snugly, and what looked like an old lady blouse, but was probably a fashionable item that goes to show how out of touch with that spectrum of wardrobing I am. She wore a largish necklace, altogether the outfit was contrasts that made her approachable, professional, and womanly. I felt as if she would blend into any crowd with her ashy blonde hair and quiet movements. Jill and I were invited back together before she asked Jill if she could wait in the front room while she talked to me. I never know what a therapist is going to say or how my perceptions may differ from theirs or those of my ex. Right away she agreed that Jill's body language was hostile. Her idea was to take it slow with her, establish rapport, and see where that went. I thought that was a great idea, I felt like she was really listening to me and agreeing with things that I said that she saw as well. She was able to offer some insights after I explained that I had received a bipolar diagnosis, I think I've mentioned before that it can appear to be ADD/ADHD, OCD, unipolar depression, or written off as someone being energetic instead of manic.

During Latin class Jill drew a floral pattern on her fingers that went up her arm. It was really cool, but she agreed probably not the best use of her time in class. Her therapist said she has a lot of anger issues. She doesn't like being told what to do, she knows she has some problems with authority figures, I admitted that I was overly strict and authoritarian at times, and my standards of organization and cleanliness were not the same that others held. We agreed that better communication was a high priority, and since I just finished reading The Question Behind The Question, QBQ, I was prepared to ask what I could be doing to facilitate further communications between us. While I understand that Jill doesn't want to be told what to do, it's very frustrating to see her not doing the things that she knows she's supposed to be doing, and let's face it, kids get told what to do by many, including parents. I felt like this week was terrible to begin with, but ended on a higher note for me as I was able to get more cooperation from the girls.

School is a lot of studying, I'm probably an overachiever/perfectionist, but I really want to know this material in case I ever decide to go further in this field, provided my skin and body can handle it. I did my session of deep muscular relaxation to the best of my ability, most of the time I listen to the CD without laying down to do any of the sessions. I felt like that was progress to be celebrated. I'm not sure what to attribute this to, but I was able to slow down a bit, and made a point of pulling my textbook out whenever I had a couple of minutes of free time. The first time I read a chapter almost nothing makes sense. The second time through I start having some aha moments. I usually skim the chapter for the highlights at that point. I went back to the study guide which had a lot of things on it that I could see were helpful from a clinical perspective, but not from a greater understanding of what is going on apart from the dental assistant's job. I get that the assistant doesn't need to know everything the dentist does, for me the clinical portion makes a lot more sense once I've seen the underlying structures and learn more about the processes, but they probably don't really care about that as long as the work gets done.

I have almost an hour before class starts. I'm fried from staring at that textbook so even though I could flip through it again, and might, I feel like I need to take some time to calm down and chill out before class starts. My eyes are so dry it hurts to blink and cry. I think I mentioned writing about the character who wanted to kill his father. Someone I know from Twitter was very encouraging, I have a tendency to do what they told us not to do when I was in group which is dump a whole bunch of shit on someone, but at least I recognize that I did that which is some minor progress even if it's a few days late. The best part of school other than learning new things is being out of the house and around my classmates. It's a long day. By the end of it my brain doesn't want to work anymore, but for the most part I really like it despite the discomfort of these stupid scrub pants they gave us. Today I'm wearing a red shirt simply because I'm tired of black, my white shirt isn't comfortable, and I feel like yellow is the wrong color for that environment which doesn't make a lot of sense since white will pick up more than yellow, but whatever. 

I could write more, but my arm is very sore, and I feel like I should get my vitamins and bag together. One thing that was super helpful was buying a striped bag that turned out to be the perfect size for transporting the things I need for class. The handle isn't very long which is a huge bonus. I spent five dollars for it at Goodwill so I don't feel bad about the money. Last night I went to Wal-Mart for a mop bucket and got distracted by the ironing board covers. I bought the wrong size thinking that my board was smaller than it really is. That was disappointing especially since I was standing there telling myself to go home and measure the board before I bought anything, but I hate to shop and I was already there so I rolled the dice and did what I tell others to avoid which is buying the wrong thing and wasting time, energy, and money. I made a surprising discovery when I was taking the covering off my green ironing board. Under the striped brown surface there was a bright orange cover with scorch marks. I tried to get them out with no luck, but I might just throw it back on since it's down in the basement and really, who cares what it looks like. I can always throw something over the dark spots and pretend like they aren't there since nobody will see it but me, and it will save me some money.

I hope everyone is doing well despite knowing that each of us have our own struggles and challenges. I have a lot of First World Problems, but at least the water here isn't contaminated with unsafe levels of lead like it is in Flint. 

Take care,

Jess 

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