woke up to the sound of rain (heavenly). know i had many dreams but can barely remember them now. don’t want to get out of bed because it’s my last time getting out of bed in this bedroom. but i must. does anyone else ever do that thing where they make themselves feel sadder about something than they need to? my brain keeps repeating “you will never live in this house again” over and over, chipping away at the river dam, but i don’t want to be any sadder than i am. i want to get better at moving forward and moving on. and the rain helps. i just remembered my dreams — i was driving a car barefoot on a busy city highway, and i was late for something. i was also in a cabin in the mountains at one point, and something was on fire, and my sister was there. i wonder if it means anything. i suppose everything does. it was a pillow that was on fire in the dream, and a pillow under my head. i would try to go back in and figure it out, but the dog is eager, and my body aches to stretch now, and the cloud reflected white light is bright through my windows. i don’t want to get up — but i must. so i do.

i want to start journaling but i'm scared if my family go through my journal without my permission (since i'm closeted), is it valid if my journal is in google docs? i swear i want to journal in a real book, but it's too risky

Of course it’s valid!! There’s no right way to journal & not everything has to be about aesthetics. For the longest time I resorted to my notes app bc it was the easiest thing to have on hand, and just like you I didn’t want to run the uncomfortable possibility of being asked to look through my journal by friends or family. Now I have a journal bc idgaf and im willing to establish my boundaries lol, but I understand how microaggressive family gets & how not everyone has the luxury of their own space at times (especially in the context of being closeted & having to tiptoe around your family). So like seriously just do what works!!

If you wanna see a loser bitch get mad as hell tell a fanfic writer to PROPERLY tag their fic as rape. Not just write "noncon" in the post but go into the notes and actually tag it as "tw rape" because they get mad asf when you call them out on it. How the fuck am I supposed to find good smut fics when each and everyone of yall are sexualizing and romanticizing rape and using the excuse that it's "dark content" no nigga you're fucking weird. You're a weirdo with a rape fetish and you're projecting it through a fictional character who has nothing to do with that and you refuse to tag it because you want notes and interactions with more people who say shit like "Omg X character nonconning his darling is sooo hot 🥺💗🎀🌸".

Don't get mad at me for calling you out on it because if you didn't write it in the first place, and if you actually tagged it I wouldn't have to see it at all.

have 12 more one-word ship prompts to finish after this lil elevenrose adventure but I find myself staying up late to continue the Lost and Rewritten series. someone take my laptop away

worked from our corporate office yesterday which meant notetaking with a gorgeous view

an hour into using obsidian and like what do you mean this was always available and free to use AND NOBODY TOLD ME

Not to sound like taylor but writing poetry in your notes app is so healing

do you guys mean to tell me were not all getting trapped in timeloops where you think youre awake and go to write your dream down onto your phone and its in your hand and oh wait the letters dont look right so then you wake up to write that down on your phone but whoops you wake up thinking about what youre going to write onto your phone and you reach over but youre still asleep so then you wake up for real this time and your phone is in your hand and you can feel it and you write down what you oh wait youre still asleep so then you wake up and

I feel like 17 years old me who just got diagnosed with DID and was in the middle of figuring it out. Eight years have passed since then and I'm still figuring it out. Still in genuine doubt. (Am I exaggerating things? I have to stay close to my truth!)

When talking to the nurse today, it was a surprise to learn that he has never found one entry he didn't remember writing in the journals he keeps.

During group, the therapist said that some therapists over-diagnose DID - and I fear that this happened to me. That I overexaggerated my symptoms and that old T was a little too keen on diagnosing the disorder. I fear this might happen again.

I wish I wouldn't have told the rehab clinic that I went to the other clinic for DID. I could have lied and said I went there for my C-PTSD. But then again, even my ambulant therapist started talking about parts during our last session. It follows me like a curse.

(I think I am exaggerating my symptoms. What does it mean to not remember something? Often I do remember *something* and it's more of a greyout than a blackout!)

grief is weird because sometimes you’ll mourn someone for a decade and, one day, you’ll realize you don’t remember the sound of their voice anymore. and then you get the sense that you’re longing for something but you have no clue what it even is.

guy who is sick and also has to study really badly voice hmmm i need to go back to journalling maybe 

Random question but does anyone know of a good log or journal app? Something simple that you can navigate through a calendar?

I need to make a daily journal but my adhd makes it hard to keep up and most apps are too much like real journals to be any helpful to me. I’ll look on my own but hoping someone has something they can recommend! Thank you🫶

obsessed w this song rn and had to make a zine

february 23, 2024

while talking over boba the other day my friend told me about a song he cried to: j’s lullaby by delaney bailey. i added it to my likes for later, and it slipped my mind as the conversation continued.

today it came on for the first time as i drove home from work. my lap was covered in tears by the time i parked, and my dad was in the driveway washing his truck. i sat in my car for a minute, letting the next song play out (don't panic (interlude) - kitty), and wiped my tears to say hi before going inside and washing up.

as i got ready, my sunscreen dropped onto my finger in the shape of a fish.

i got back into my car and drove off to pick up an acoustic from someone off facebook. there’s been a lot of construction on the highway lately, and her apartment was no escape as i watched a crew excavate some pipes while waiting for her to come out.

she rushed downstairs, guitar in hand, and waved. i stepped out of my car to greet her, and she complimented its color as she gave the hood a little poke. as i typed her name into cashapp, we chatted about the game she was in the middle of playing. i watched the little notification pop from the top of her screen confirming my payment, and she handed me the guitar. she said i was cool and to text her sometime before running back to her game. im not sure i will.

drafting my email to the investigator like Here's an itemized list of 3 months of disagreements