Three days with no caffeine. I've managed to stay relatively wakeful today, even with the oppressive heat. I see that I felt like I need caffeine a lot more than I actually needed caffeine. I don't think I've gone this long without caffeine since high school. Even in the madhouse they'd let us have real coffee in the morning. I doubted if I could do it, but the only real hurdle was that doubt. Yeah, I've had a bit of a headache the last few days, but I've gone through Geodon withdrawal - compared to that, this is a piece of cake.

So, Foley claims he was molested growing up. Whether or not that happened, I do not like it again being used as an "excuse" for this behaviour. Most people who are molested DO NOT end up becoming molesters themselves. THERE IS NO EXCUSE FOR FOLEY'S BEHAVIOUR.

This is a very personal issue with me. I was molested as a child. I would never do anything like that to a child. However, the constant repetition of "victims of molestation become molesters" has made me wonder at points if I'm somehow at risk of waking one day and becoming a monster. I've heard this fear from many other victims as well. People who would never harm a fly worried about being around children because of this damaging "inner monster" myth.

I'm going to say it again:

BEING A VICTIM OF MOLESTATION DOES NOT MAKE ONE BECOME A MOLESTER. It is not an excuse and those who use it as one are further harming victims. Assholes like that should be locked up for the rest of their lives and left to rot.

I was quite productive yesterday, well more productive than average for me at least. In addition to my daily chores (animal care and cooking), I reglued the twine on my staff, I did a much needed load of laundry, and did an good hour of cleaning the downstairs of the house_of_clocks with recoiling.

Yeah, it's kind of pathetic what I consider a good and productive day. But, I want to surf this wave and see if it builds. After Skye's vet appointment at 3pm, I want to do some more cleaning at the house_of_clocks and do some crafting. Perhaps I'm on the verge of at least getting my surroundings and activities in order. I've been on this precipice for a long time, so I'm not going to get to carried away with optimism.

when i was homeless i could not stay in a shelter because i am a tranny
i felt not part of the society around me
i most hated the goody goody
the "proper and respectable"
i lurked in the shadows and stole from the shops
i snuck into buildings (trespassing) for warmth and sleep
i was neither proper nor respectable
but i felt my stealing and trespassing reasonable
i still believe they were
but the "proper and respectable" never will

i carried a lot of anger as i walked the darknesses
looking at the happy faces heading home burned my eyes red with fire
it has been long time to let go of these ancient angers
and to look now with clear eyes

i am outside me now
i see how that anger still taints my political views
i identify with the underdog
the downtrodden
i inherently distrust the proper and respectable
in the current conflict in the middle east
the palestinians and the lebanese have gone through much more strife and hardship than i ever have
and israel is the "proper and respectable"
this adds a layer of distrust to whatever it does
bush’s support drives that home
the bush administration has mastered the self-righteousness "proper and respectable"

i must observe that my emotions play in my political beliefs
my views may or may not be wrong
and after exploring them my view may or may not
but it is important for me to explore those biases
and what blindnesses those biases might be producing

if one cannot question oneself
one does not have an open mind

My writing dry spells are usually caused by self-doubt about what I write. While I cannot simply let that go, I need to learn to write anyway. I should leave the judgement of the worth of my writing on the reader. If it is brilliant and wise they may learn from it. If it is repetitive and trite they may move on. If it is witty and sharp, they may be entertained by it. If it is laughably foolish and ridiculous, they may be entertained by it. Should it matter to me which one of those cases are the truth? I don't think so. However, "should" is always easier than "does".

I attack my own words.

I'm trying to find that place where I know what I know.

The balance is hard to find.

I do not want to make myself seem more than I am.

At the same time I do not want to make myself seem less than I am.

I have strived for the most accurate depiction I can in my journal.

Of course, I am subjective, and my mindstate of the day will influence what I say.

I do not know where I fit in.

My view of that changes daily, or hourly.

Sometimes I feel I am very wise, and want to share what I see.

Sometimes I feel I am very foolish, and what I think I see is not what is.

Sometimes I feel very pioneering, and that I see things ahead of the curve.

Sometimes I feel very naive, and that I'm just figuring out things that everyone has already long gotten past.

Knots and loops and mirrors and pains.

I do not like this place.

i try to use make my journal as accurate an expression of me as possible
i try to censor as little of my life as possible
it is important
it is part of my statement
be ashamed of nothing
i know i don't embody that fully
there are things i'm ashamed of
i'm ashamed that i still pick my nose
that's something i've never mentioned in livejournal
and i am now
because this journal should be an expression of me
i try to use filters when posting things that might hurt somebody
i know there's a chance the person may see it anyway
but i can't break my statement
i must post how i'm feeling
where i am
it is a selfish act
i know this
but i feel compelled to do it anyway
i think that is why many people read my journal
because i don't hold much back
if i'm doing bad, i say i'm doing bad
if i just cut, i say i just cut
if i do cocaine, i say i did cocaine
i'm not trying to paint a bad or good picture
i'm trying to paint a real picture
i want the journal to be as pure as possible
and i know i've alienated and hurt people i love in the process
i know i've shot myself in the foot by saying too much at times
maybe i should change how i do things
maybe this journal is too much
maybe my statement is made already
maybe i should be less obsessed with letting go
releasing everything

The people running the partial program were very impressed with me. At least that's what they told Harriette. They said I was intelligent, conversive, outgoing, positive, and energetic. They thought I helped create a better atmosphere while I was there. Wow! That's completely opposite the image I had of myself.

There have always been occasions where I can't get myself to purge properly. I try and try, but I can't get all of it out. However, in the past those occurrences were the exception, not the rule. Over the past week, those occurrences have been becoming more and more the rule. I just tried to purge after eating a large meal of biscuits and gravy. I could only get a small percentage of the meal to come up. I spiral into an intense cycle self-loathing everytime I fail in this way. I can't even have an eating disorder right. How pathetic is that?

I'm suspicious that my current problem may have something to do with the meds I'm on. I've been thinking of ditching the Geodon anyway, as it's had no real effects. If anything, I'm worse than when I started it. I don't really know what to do. I just know I hate myself right now.

laurellily obviously doesn't think the same way about me as I do about her. It's very clear. It's very understandable. What do I have to offer? Really, what do I? I'm twisted and broken. I can't get out of these fucking loops. I want to cling on to something that can give me hope. I'm trying, but I don't seem to be able to. Everything keeps slipping away. Hope keeps slipping silently away.

I know I should just wait for the intake Thursday. Then wait for them to set me up with an appointment with a therapist. Then wait to see if the therapist is actually able to help us. But, I don't think I can wait. I don't think I can believe enough that there is hope. I don't think I can keep hold. I think everything will just keep slipping further and further away.

I am weak and pathetic. I can't stop bingeing and purging. I can't get it together enough to get a job. I can't protect us from Cyndi's cutting, or my own. I'm a drain on all those around me. I can't do anything. I try, but I can't. I'm not even brave enough to kill myself.