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I can't sleep and it's very frustrating.

I told my mum about going to Pride. It was part of something else I was telling her anyway. I say I'm "going to the gay pride celebration" and she was like "What?!" really fast like she says when I say things she doesn't like. "You're going to what?!" she said. "Gay Pride Celebration [insert something about beer and needing an ID]". She asked me questions about how I'm getting there and where it is and not calling it by name. I'm going to wear some Pride merch when I come home just to piss her off.

Malcolm X's life is so very fascinating to me right now. In his autobio I'm onto the part about his being in prison and restarting his education. It resonates with me because I'm at a similar place in my life and I've felt so, honestly, alone. It's one thing to know with your mind that you have to go in a certain direction to reach the goal of changing your life to something very, very new to you but it's another to know all the twists and turns you have to go through (for the most part, I think, they must be experienced). It's like I'm trying to get to California but I have no maps, no knowledge of the geography in between and I'm hardly aware that it's in the south west.

My mum and I were sitting in the living room watching TV. I was also listening to some music, two CDs of rap that I burned last night. There was some content that some would object to: especially my mum. Insane Clown Posse's "Fuck the World" came on and, disturbed, she asked how I got into such music. That's fine; at least she's not telling me what not to listen to anymore. So anyway, later when we were putting up curtains in the kitchen and having difficulty she started swearing like a sailor as usual in frustration. I had to tell her that she swore worse than most of my music. I would not have opened myself up to her like that before; telling her my feelings about music.

Just wait to she hears the lyrics that I wrote. Hear in the minimalist sense, anyhow. She won't listen to it. Not even for her own son.

I'm now playfully joking with my mum as I said above about her swearing (she called that poor curtain some nasty damn names). Before showing my humor to anyone was a big fear. What would happen if they percieved my joke as stupid, or did not get it?

I'm telling my deepest, darkest secrets to my psychiatric RN. The surface of them anyway. I have a lot of things held in. I'm going to miss Jane. She's the first psych professional I opened up to and I like her. I hope I work as well with my regular psychiatrist, my psychologist and occupation therapist (and at group).

I did push-ups in front of my mum. I was much to inhibited to do that before. I listen to all this "dirty" (if you will) and gay-themed music with my mum in the same room. All these little things, as well, that I was afraid to do in sight of anyone and her I can do now. I still have plenty of problems but...

Baby steps.

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