I tried chatGPT and it just kinda validated that my treatment team sucks ("you're carrying a depth of trauma and dysregulation that the system hasn't met with nuance, care, and understanding") and I have to teach them how easily I have misled them a lot. It's funny because it said to try to identify small glimmers of connection including from animals that make you feel "seen and safe" and then a few hours later there was that service dog "protecting me" from the other city folk. I kinda told it I think I can tolerate death better than recovery and it said a lot of people feel that way, but can't say it aloud. I think between getting to Hannaford's half an hour before opening and getting a chance to try this thing out and actually feeling validated and understood even by fking AI that gathers it's shyt from what other people type and reading What My Bones Know and feeling completely seen, I can have moments of being okay because, I mean I may not be a big part of the production of This American Life oreven feel remotely like I belong in society, I've survived. I met the coolest dog ever today. I didn't want to eat my planned lunch so I substituted it for an instant breakfast with mofo'ing almond milk being even higher in calories than what I even initially planned, but yesterday I was craving seafood, today I feel more like des choses à bases de lait. I almost want to get more yogurt--regular or even frozen. That was actually my intent when I left this morning, to get yogurt, but no, fking pre-AM me went for a 5 mile walk (that was honestly faster than some of my high school's JV XC team's 5k race pace) to get canned crab meat and grapes from like the third furthest chain grocery store from me in all the city. Neither of which I'm crazy about... wtf...

I did catch a beautiful sunrise from the top of a hill on one of the streets though.