Guilt-ridden for no good reason. To distraction. My obsessive fear of doing harm. Shooing pointless thoughts away like flies.

Emotional. Cried recalling the scent of church. How I want to go but cannot as we have only two services a week. But this denial and my accordant longing is not without use. Cried later I-don't-know-why.

Morning : acceptance, peace. Annoyed in the evening. Fine at night but very fatigued.

Sensitive. Moving between being okay, fretful, & happy. During Vespers I cried looking at the wall of icons because I felt that I can be forgiven & also — since God is in me — that I can forgive myself. Afterwards, the smoke from the put-out candles. Father H walked me through veneration & I was grateful.

Excited in the wet gray morning. Then overly fearful. & sad & empty in my stomach. Then lighter but brainfoggy and still not great. Won't be able to get my estrogen refilled until three days from now due to needing an in-state prescriber and this is not such a big deal as I am on antiandrogens, but it is already late & I am afraid my mood will continue to get worse in this hormonal trough. "It's dark so early. This really isn't good for us." In church I ate the bread someone offered me.

I woke up with an itch in my palm and a sense of emptiness. I started to feel better in the afternoon as I danced in the kitchen alone : “You slept better in a sleeping train in a shed in a station with a torch and a woman drowned.” Difficulty finding my words, fatigue. By the end of the day I was happy, comfortable. Still sadness feels so close at hand : perhaps underneath. I read a bit of Luke before bed while I was exhausted to the point of feeling drunk.

This morning I had very, very thick mental fog. I stumbled through conversation with the nurse who took my blood & she told me over and over it was okay. Cried reading Screwtape Letters. By evening the fog had lifted ; perhaps this occurred when I was on a long walk through the brisk downtown ( it was so cold I wore two coats ). I feel good.