Okay, so having gotten near 3 hours of sleep last night, as according to my fitbit, I am tired as all fuck and have only been functioning through the amazing power of caffeine and Bronkaid. Mostly just caffeine.
Therapy went okay. I told her I wanted to process my childhood more as a general thing, rather than individual memories, because otherwise we would be spending forever and a half.
I had printed out the blog posts (9 pages, nearly 7,000 words after editing shit out) and gave them to her. That’s a lot of words. She wanted to read them. I don’t know if she has yet or not. I feel like I should be anxious or nervous but I’m not. I’m too tired and I got too much reading to do. Nothing I can really do about it at this point. Her reading it or not. Not the sleeping. I’m going to go to bed soon, probably.
In other news, I got put on a 3 week waitlist to see this one LGBTQA+ therapist that Charon had said she thought I would “vibe” with. That was her exact term. Vibe. I’ve taken to wearing my binder a lot more. I love my binder. It makes me feel good. I’ll dance in front of the mirror while wearing it because I feel happy with myself and my body and I sing the “I’m sexy and I know it” song in my head. Sometimes out loud. With hip thrusts. Don’t judge.
My birthday is Saturday. I’m going to be 27.
I don’t have much else to add and I’m fucking tired.
-The Sarcastic Autist
the sarcastic autist 