I'm sort of done with school. I have until Wednesday to finish my Spanish incomplete and until the end of summer to finish my History incomplete. It feels good to have the worst over with. It's shockingly cold up here these days. It makes it hard to play outside, although, I must say I have enjoyed some time to sleep and read for fun. I'm re-reading Marya Hornbacher's book, Madness. It's about her life with bipolar disorder. It's written so raw and honest; it inspires me to write like that. I'd like to start a book this summer, and yes, I understand writing a book can take ten years. That's why I figure I better start now.

My therapist says I'm a bit more guarded now than when I first came to her fresh out of the partial hospitalization program. I think that's because in partial, having mental illness isn't associated with a flaw of character. As I have relearned to function in the real world, I also have relearned to repress my feelings. I am trying to be more mindful and less guarded. Even Jordan mentioned that it's okay to let myself be vulnerable. I'm bad at that. I am much more comfortable and unguarded in my writing. Maybe my guard up correlates with the fact that I haven't had time to write. Maybe I lost that connection somewhere--of being able to decipher what I feel.

I had an intense therapy session on Thursday where I realized I don't know what I feel about things very often. I get my feelings confused and they're so repressed, I don't know how to read the pure emotion that triggered whatever mess I may be feeling like.

Sundays are such a downer day. I feel pretty good because I conquered my awful week, but there is still that hint of Sunday loneliness on the horizon.