The mornings are always the worst, waking up to a whole host of sounds, sounds from other people. I’ve never liked this, not even when I was in here for months at a time. Every morning it’s the same. The girls fight for the shower, fight for time to primp, time to put on their masks. I quickly learned to take a shower in the evening—that way I’m not confronted with all the bitchiness on an empty stomach.
My alarm goes off again, which means I really need to get out of bed now and get dressed, or I’ll have to go into the office dressed in my nightgown. I quickly throw on some sweatpants and a T-shirt. Then I check my schedule. Just a meeting with my psych and my dietitian in the morning and then art “therapy” in the afternoon. Which is mostly me trying not to go insane from being locked up
