Laying in bed miserably, Ivy drunkenly BLATHERED on the phone about her Alex the Lion fan-fiction, worsened by the fact that I have bad experiences with the third Madagascar installment. Happy New Year 2025.

I made it through the slaughterhouse.

Diamonding(conversion; denominal verb) & eggs with three scallions for a trinityhopefilled diet & my vibrator died.

Mood: Through the slaughterhouse, into the gulag: "Glory to God for All Things". Overwhelmed.

I wrote a list of things to look forward to this year disguised as a reading list, how cliché. The cliché to me: “God save you.”

Mood: Self-loathing & upset.

I baked prosphora & played Silent Hill & listened to bird sounds on a cassette tape.

Mood: Alright-adjacent. Writingtrouble.

One week early; (three for the trinity?)

Woke up before Divine Liturgy but didn’t go. Ten minute Vespers. Singing about the form of a dove. I felt like I would cry. They gave me holy water.

Bad conversation; dirtyfilthyguilt feeling. I think it did something lastingly bad.

“I got a rosary to protect us both from harm.”

Mood: Pretty fucking horrible.

Vashti-Wednesday is Vashti-Thursday now. I really want to hurt myself. Saliva filling my mouth on the bus. I got two hours of sleep last night. I really want to hurt myself. I really want to hurt myself.

Mood: I wish I were dead. (Sad.)

Yesterday I felt nailed down into the floor(bed) with every word. I wanted her to stop talking & I also wanted her to say what I wanted to hear. So I kept seeking & I did not find (until today). I had a panic attack & could not speak.

I called into work today & today I feel safe.

Mood: Relief.

Snoopy & Woodstock:

Wow I’m tired. So let’s see. . . I woke up panicked at 1-something in the morning and almost got up from bed because I thought I was late and then realized I was able to go back to sleep. And I felt such relief that I didn’t have to go for a few hours. And then when I took the bus this morning somehow I felt okay. I don’t even know why. I just listened to the same song over and over. Completely calm.

On the way home I felt kind of hopeful on the bus. It was light out by the time I got home. But it was also really sad because it made me realize that’s probably just how normal people feel and I never feel that way.

Had a terrible dream about a bad phone conversation with Ivy. I called her & fell back asleep. After work I called her as I took a nap. Deer & no snow.

Mood: Sadness under/over everything.

Pernicious exhaustion & guilt. Avoiding everyone. Ivy read to me while I took a nap.

Mood: Pressing sadness.

Reached the emotional equivalent of being in a cartoon, asking how things could possibly get worse, saying at least it's not raining, & then having a little rain cloud appear over my head.

Lesbianrejected.

Mood: Everything is so terrible that it's funny.

I couldn't get out of bed this morning.

Mood: Paralysisregret.

Cried on the bus to school & a coworker briefly rested her hand on my thigh during a meeting.

Candy wrapper: "That's Monday's problem."

"Not chopped liver."

Mood: Bad. Gross. "I can tell you're feeling really down."

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Crying. Two weeks.

Mood: Very bad.

Father A_n said it was not possible to become any more "lovable" in the eyes of God.

It was hard not to cry.

Excerpt from a letter sent yesterday: "I think it is easier to feel God’s absence in a church, but to recognize something’s absence implies that it exists. I think it is a sort of loneliness. Maybe that’s not true. Loneliness is something shameful. It is a simple & childish statement, but I think it’s easier to miss God when you are in a church, the way you miss a friend."

Mood: Depressed and strangely lonely; self disgust. Suicidal.

Nothing-Vespers. Could not stop crying later.

Mood: Suicidal.

Mood: Suicidal.

Vashti-Wednesday means nothing to me anymore. I almost fell asleep sitting in church. (I hurt my back too much to stand. I could not focus on the service through my pain.)

Mood: Suicidal.

Christmas lighthouse.

Mood: Sardonic.

—

Horrific.

I could not bear to go to church today. I didn't think I could do it without crying.

God the Tormentor. God is creative.

Psalm 54:

My heart is troubled within me, and the terror of death is fallen upon me.
Fear and trembling are come upon me, and darkness hath covered me.
And I said: Who will give me wings like a dove? And I will fly, and be at rest.

Mood: Overwhelmed & guilt-ridden.

I almost cried sitting on the bus on the way to school today. What a child.

Mood: Overwhelmed

Saintgabrielsky. The good thing about reading the Bible is that mundane names are now meaningful: Gabriel, Michael, Mary, etc.

Father A_n emailed me to check on me.

Mood: Good, & that's my first time writing that in my calendar.

I bled through my pad. Sleepy but well rested. Good weather.

Mood: Quietcalm (As long as I don't think about things.)

Asked to stop talking about when I harmed myself & it was okay.

Got panicked talking on the phone & had trouble breathing. My face felt electric, like when I came off of my antidepressants/psychotics.

Mood: “You don't seem horrible”.

The priest: “And folks harm themselves in all sorts of ways- a gallon of ice cream, a pack of Camels. You just do it in a way that's more immediate and less socially acceptable. As to crying in the services, where else are you going to cry if you can't do it there?”

Angel bolo tie (turquoise) & angel bag (gift); “And Angel Toriel & Michael on your body so soon.” Angels everywhere.

“I will I think I will.”

Mood: “today sucked what a waste of a life”

I cried for the entire church service. I couldn't stop. People touched me with their hands.

Mood: Stented & meat tenderized.

Mood: I think I did a good job today.

Isn't it nice to think it yourself?

Yeah.

I emailed the therapist. I feel scared about it now. God help me.

Mood: “You seemed so miserable on the bus.”

Mood: Discouraged.

Winter party with the kids; last day being Miss Vashti for a while. I think I'm getting sick.

Mood: Disoriented(ly).

Lots of green tea; too tired for church tonight.

Mood: Sick & lightheaded & heart-beating.

Addendum: Too much caffeine, prayed for a while & could not sleep.

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—

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Desire to hurt myself, but I did not. In church I decided that I will wait until next Christmas to think about killing myself. Was gifted a prayer bracelet, thirty-three beads. Haircut.

Mood: Resolved.

Vultures eating a deer after church; then scared by the silhouette of a deer in the night; then a herd of deer running.

Mood: Up & down & up & down & up & down into sleep.

Mood: Indisputable.

“My life is a second chance.”
“The world is okay.”
“The world is pointy.”

Nothing I’ve done will change these things.

Mood: I wish I were dead.

Ran around until I almost puked & I did not hurt myself.

Mood: Bad.

I feel like I have roadkill in my stomach; (in reference to my soul).

Mood: Bad.

My sister shoved me & it hurt my back again so badly I almost threw up & I began crying.

Mood: Unending panic attack before bed.

Scallionhope salad with seared tuna & masago. Writing.

Mood: Bad, self-loathing.

Resolution: Eat enough & get my health back; I want my old clothes to fit & I want to run again.

Resolution: No more punishment; no more self-flagellation.

Resolution: Let art save you.

Resolution: Do the good work at your desk.

I think God would like an empty church with just a priest performing Vespers to himself (& to Him). When I went today it was just me, another parishioner, and Father A_n. It was empty so I could see the icons well. Even though it was just us I stood in the back. I'll have to ask Father A_n what he does when no one shows up to the service, if he still does it. I'd be sad if he didn't. I wonder if it loses meaning in how routine it is.

Mood: Numb & suicidal.

The choir's Psalter smells just like a childhood book of mine.

Mood: Absolutely nothing.

Jesus Prayer, “Lord have mercy,” Our Father, etc. It calmed me down.

Weird stomach pains.

Mood: Numb, but able to move.

Losing track of my thoughts mid-prayer.

Mood: Angry.

I want to kill myself.

“How are you?” “Same as ever.” “Is that good or bad?”

A few people asked me to stay after church for lunch, but I left. I didn't want to talk to anyone.

I was told to read the Gospel of Luke first.

Mood: Same as ever. (Miserable.)

My Bible made my back more sore.

Mood: Almost feeling.

I had a dream about the song The Hidden River of My Life.

Cried without a sense of relief.

Mood: Deeply suicidal.

Fitful sleep & gagging.

Mood: Tired, overwhelmed.

Too busy for emotion or God.

Mood: Alright (?)

No more late nights after this. Respite. Email Father A_n tomorrow. My body has weird pains.

Mood: Too busy to feel; Alright (?)

Didn't go to Vespers tonight because I didn't want to see anyone. Thought about skipping church tomorrow because I don't want to see anyone, but I won't. I still haven't written Father A_n back.

Sudden tearfulness. Hiding from the world.

Mood: Acutely suicidal.

I kissed the cross today. Father A_n was right; it was good to talk to people after the service. I left feeling alright.

Mood: Desperate.

Mood: I was too tired to write. (Retroactive.)

In class today, for the upcoming holiday the children wrote an A-Z list of what they were thankful for. Many of them wrote God or Jesus. I wish I could have faith that simple & innocent; faith on a child's worksheet.

Mood: Nothing; self disgust; I don't know.

On break for 11 days.

Mood: Horribly depressed.

Mood: So depressed.

Mood: Hopeless.

Panicked while driving. Went to Vespers.

Mood: Depressed & obsessive.

Divine Liturgy. Prayed for each of my students. Was close to tears toward the beginning, thought about leaving but didn't. Wrote Father A_n about my obsessions/compulsions. (I don't know if it's the sort of thing I could manage to say out loud.)

Mood: A little better, but still sad.

I went to the doctor and tried very hard to convince the doctor that I am not suicidal & am actually a fully functional human being.

“Have you had thoughts about hurting yourself?” “I have never had thoughts of hurting myself.” “I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

While all of my writing is completely useless, I can say that at least this calendar has a purpose now; I was able to tell the doctor when my last period was.

Mood: Pathetic.

Another suicide dream. It's becoming a common theme.

Driving alone at night, talking out loud to myself, because I could not bring myself to believe God was listening, my voice began to strain with emotion. Still, I wasn't able to let myself cry.

Mood: I wonder if there's even a point to writing this anymore. I've felt the same every day for a month. What a fun exercise.

I talked to my best friend & it made me feel better. I am going to try to find a therapist.

"To use prayer in the moment and not as a goal that will become a prison."

Mood: Despair.

Verbal debridement.

Mood: Complete despair.

Facing fears.

Mood: Clearheaded for the first time in a long time.

I decided to get a tattoo.

Mood: Low(er) (again).