Mid-summer fun

I awoke late thinking it was Tuesday. Completely forgetting about morning weights I went about the business of getting dressed and attempting to regain the composure that consciousness called for. A few minutes later Elle opened her own sleepy eyes with a look of groggy confusion and asked if i had already been weighed. As I scuttled down the hall, sliding along the linoleum floor in my bare feet, I tried to remember what was on the agenda for today now that I was assured it was indeed Wednesday and not Tuesday. There was my pre-breakfast appointment with Griz in about 45 minutes, CBT group at 10:30, a couple of afternoon groups, oh yea…and the unit BBQ at lunch. They have tried to arrange these twice since I came here but, both times, they were cancelled due to extreme heat and/or rain.

At 11:15 CBT ended and lunch was just over the horizon. I was a little bit anxious, just because I didn’t know what to expect, as I chatted with Laura, Amy, and Benji in the day room killing time. Finally the call was made and the group of us were escorted down to the second floor and ushered outside into the noontime sun of the fresh air park. I couldn’t help but notice the beautiful weather right off the bat but, as soon as we rounded the corner, I got an eyeful of the setup they had laid out for us.

There was a horseshoe shape constructed out of multiple 6-foot folding tables with the large grill that had been used to cook the food in the center. Rectangle tinfoil trays lined the table keeping warm hot dogs, hamburgers, veggie burgers, and turkey burgers. Once claiming the appropriate but for our protein of choice we filed on, one by one, to select our toppings from the fresh vegetables and bowls of condiments. Eventually came the extras and it was up to each of us to figure out how much of what things we needed. There was potato salad, macaroni salad, watermelon, cookies, and non-diet soda laid out with Sally, th dietician, to check out what we had put on our plates at the very end of it all.

I realized that apparently the BBQ was for more people than I had thought as I looked around at my surroundings once I had found a seat at one of the green metal mesh tables. There weren’t just patients and the normal unit nursing staff but there were also the various medical students, resident doctors, and various therapists that worked with us as well. I turned out to be a good time as we all intermingled, eating and chatting, staff with patients, and the level of relaxation was much higher than I had anticipated. On my own plate I had a turkey burger and bun with lettuce and tomato, a generous helping of macaroni salad, and 3 cookies with a glass of water. The only thing bothersome about the whole experience were the bees that showed up to join the shindig towards the end.

Once a majority of people were done eating Talia and Carly, the two main BBQ organizers, rolled out the completely unexpected. Hearing wheels on the cement I looked up to find them steering a TV cart in our direction with not only its intended TV but also 2 microphones and a karaoke machine. Binders filled to the brim with song options were passed out and selections were made as the temperature grew cooler and the wind picked up a little in preparation for the forecasted late afternoon rainstorms. Everyone had a great time for about half an hour more as we were regaled with warbley renditions of hits from the 60s and 70s. Unfortunately the microphones didn’t work so some of the crooning was inaudible but the funky dancing that accompanied more than made up for that lack.

Now the sun is setting as I sit at my desk and write this. Dinner is over and its almost snack time. We never got the showers that had been called for but the day is not over just yet. Its been a long one and I’m tired but I’m really glad that the BBQ plan was such a success. I bet I’ll sleep like a log tonight.

100% backfire (part II)

The general consensus the group had of the NBC tour itself was that it didn’t lack in room for improvement. At only an hour and 15 minutes in total length it seemed on one hand to be rushed but on the other hand lacking in anything beyond mildly interesting. When we walked into the bottom floor of the skyscraper for our time slotted tour the room we entered would turn out to be the most colorful and eye-catching that we would see that day. It was the over-priced gift shop. After passing through without hesitation we climbed a short spiral staircase whose bordering wall was checkerboarded with screens airing Saturday Night Live skits. Even with no sound the image of Will Farrell in a blond bob wig proved somehow to be just as humorous as it played in view no matter which way you turned your head.

After that we got in line. It was a tight cramped line that seemed to get hotter under the low ceiling lamps by the minute as we waited for just about a half hour. In the meantime we were given clear plastic pass-pockets that went around our necks and held our tour tickets. On one side of the skinny hallway was a wall of glossy photos framed and sporting different celebrities and their signatures, most of whom I didn’t recognize. On the opposite wall glass cases flaunted just a small portion of the NBC memorabilia that was positioned throughout the building.

Eventually the tour got underway and we were led into a small theater for a viewing of “NBC Studios – A Brief History” that lasted about 20 minutes. Subsequently we were subjected to the bizarrely spastic greetings from the two studio interns leading the tour. after embarking on our journey into the depths of the building the 25 of us were piled in and out of the elevators as we saw an empty news studio, the studio that was home to Jimmy Kimmell’s late night show, and a collapsible studio for on of NBC’s sports shows. All of these were fairly dark and none were in use at the time of our appearance so it was described to us what might have been playing on the many TV screens had people actually been at work.

The rest of the time was spent wandering around and looking at various NBC artifacts and memorabilia. There was the varying progression of the peacock logo, a video demo of the SNL make-up team hard at work, and a mock news and weather report involving volunteers from our group. Then, all of a sudden, the tour was over and we were being asked for our plastic necklaces back. The getting off the unit part of it had been fun but, with my disintegrating mood and the lackluster activity, I found myself wishing I had stayed back that day. NBC was an experience and thats really all I can say about that.

We wound up leaving the studio about an hour ahead of schedule. Four of our group split from us to head off around the city for wherever their various dinner passes were to take them and the rest of us meandered our way back to the subway station. With some time to kill Talia spontaneously took us into a Starbucks along the way to get drinks and relax a little. I stood next to her in line, wallowing in the still undiluted emotions of earlier, when I suddenly had an idea. Turning to Talia I told her that I had been completely beating myself up for the issue with the sandwich. We talked for a minute about how proud I had been of myself for constantly doing 100%. She said she had been too and I ultimately wound up posing a question.

I asked Talia if there was any way I could make up for the uneaten peanut butter and jelly. To my surprise, and extreme thankfulness, she said “yes”. After some deliberation I wound up with a hummus snack plate involving a pita, hummus dip, chicken, and some miscellaneous veggies. Almost as though trying to do it before Talia changed her mind I gobbled up the over-priced mini meal. Talia and the others finished their coffees and sodas and we left to catch the train.

I know talking to Talia and coming up with an alternate plan was the right thing to do. Almost instantly after taking the last bite of pita I felt 10 times better. It was like i was allowed to feel pride in myself again. I felt, in a way, redeemed. Looking back on the whole thing now I can clearly see the challenge in it and am happy with how I handled the situation in the end. I’m not looking forward to more issues like that one but, at least, now I feel more confident in knowing what I will need to do.

100% backfire

There was jelly, peanut butter, humus, and chicken, 2 slices of wheat bread, a pita pocket, sun chips, melon, 2 juices, and 4 chocolate chip cookies. All of this was what my haphazard conglomeration of a lunch consisted of as it spanned the course of the afternoon. It had not been planned that way by any means. The make-up of the chaotic mess was fueled by circumstance and unforseen events but proved, in the end, to just reinforce my idea that everything happens for a reason. Now that I am back, safe and comfortable, at my pseudo “home”, I can safely look back on the whole event and consider it a challenge rather than a setback. I will explain…

Today was the day of the NBC studio tour. We set off for the subway at 11:30 and rode the express train to Rockefeller Center. This time our group consisted of eight patients and two staff members. The one with the plan, the directions, the agenda and the hook-up at NBC was Talia and, when we deboarded the train she led us through the acclaimed plaza.

We had our bag lunches with us and the idea had been that we would find a food court or a lobby with some tables to eat at before we had to be at NBC at 1 pm. The only problem was that there weren’t any areas to sit in that didn’t belong to specific restaurants. The train had dropped us off at the time we should have been starting lunch and, by the time we realized we were wandering in circles and actually found a place to settle down, we only had about 15 minutes to eat. Rockefeller Center is a pretty clean place, for being in the middle of the city, and I would have happily made myself comfortable for lunch sitting on the stone mosaic off to the side.

One of my big issues, along with keeping a schedule, is not having to stuff my face because I’m trying to eat in a hurry. Each lunch bag contained the PB & J sandwich, a bowl of cut melon, the 4 cookies, 2 juices, and bag of sun chips. Its quite a bit to eat in the time we were left with and, for the first time since my arrival at Columbia, I went into the meal with an obstinately bad mood. My anxiety was already heightened by starting the meal late and the confusion about where to eat only added to that. I live by a schedule which is part of how the eating disorder took hold in the first place. Now, I know I am going to have to challenge that rigidness and need for construction, but I just wasn’t ready for what today’s winds blew my way.

I wound up eating sulkily, quietly stewing in my anxiety-ridden annoyance, until Talia declared it time to go. I just left what I didn’t get to in the bag. Talia said I could finish as we walked but my frustration and anger with the situation superseded rationality as I handed her the lunch bag with a firm “no”. As soon as we started making our way to the studio my anger flipped, though, and directed itself at me and my own actions. For the very first time I had not done 100% eating my meal. That status I was so proud of had been broken in just a few minutes time and for that I was furious. The entire time on the rather short NBC tour was spent beneath a fog of failure. I knew I could have done better if I had only tried harder and my mind seemed to not want to let my heart live that fact down.

(I swear this has a happy ending…to be continued…)

Weathering Passes

It looks like rain outside today, even though they aren’t calling for it until tomorrow, but the weather is nice with the gray layer of cloud cover. There is supposed to be a high of 80 but, with the light breeze rolling off the Hudson River, it feels more like a perfectly comfortable low 70’s sort of day. Its quiet around here again with all those eligible out on passes as much as they can be in the weekend down-time.

Passes are something you can request when you have reached the 90% mark of your personal ideal body weight. They come with moving up to level 4 and each one has to be specifically written out and approved. The request form includes the times of departure and return, exactly where in the city you’ll be going, how you’ll get there, and a basic play-by-play of what you’ll be doing. Generally on a pass you will eat one or two meals while out and this is where the bulging, over-stuffed, menu folder for the until comes in handy. It is required that you write down each item that you plan to order for your meal along with a backup plan in case the restaurant of choice is out of something. Unforseen snags in this method of recovery practice are always possible but the staff works with those going out to prepare as best they can for anything from the realm of the unknown.

Much of going out on passes involves the honor system. Thats why frequently patients, who don’t fully trust themselves to make the right decisions when the moment arrives, go on passes in pairs. The company is nice and you also have that unspoken safety net of someone being able to hold you accountable for your actions. Elle and Benji left only a few minutes ago to embark on just such a pass. neither of them are from Ney York and have no family in the area so the choice is to either brave the city alone or try and hack it as a duo. Today’s afternoon agenda for them includes a few hours spent at the Natural History Museum, with a strict exhibit schedule due to it’s vastness, and then dinner on the town.

Elle has been doing passes for about 2 weeks and Benji just a few days. In the beginning the outings are done a few times one-on-one with a staff member for a sort of practice and this can be just about anyone of the patient’s choosing. Both Elle and Benji went to breakfast with their personal therapists in the past week and came beck from the challenges with a noticeable amount of gained confidence. I have thought about it a little, as to who on staff I might like to go eat with, and the Griz is looking like a good candidate as well as either Talia or Gina.

It will be a while still though before I have to make a decision on that since I still have at least 15 pounds to go before I reach my 90%. I hope that when the time comes for me to try making my way around the city with some of my fellow patients there are still some left on the unit to join me. At the rate the exit door is revolving compared to the spider webs collecting on the admittance entrance I may well be left to make due on my own. Whatever happens though I know it will be an adventure!

Predictions do not equal facts (part 2)

I asked Benji how he viewed what it would realistically be like when he got home after leaving here. It was a sort of loaded question that provoked a lengthy pause as precursor to its stumbling answer. I knew it would be though, and I had been hesitant to ask in the first place, but did anyway. Call it a test for response. That question is tricky to answer on a couple different levels, one being whether or not to lie.

Everybody is scared of returning to the daily life that helped contribute to this situation in the first place. Many people who leave here are not so sure that going home is the best idea. We try to act positive but, in the face of that question, do we lie and say everything will be fine? And, if we do say it will be fine, are we doing it so others can hear it and keep up their own hope for the future or so we can keep doubt out of our own minds? Then again, if we tell the truth it might sound something like Benji’s answer. His may seem disheartening, but its honest and, although I hope hes not lessening his chances by admitting it, I can respect his honesty.

After some silent moments of consideration Benji looks at me and speaks. He says that here, on the unit, its safe. We know things will be okay here because they have a plan and ensure that we are on the right track. At home we are left to our own devices. No one accounts for our decisions and our recovery is in our own two hands. We have the knowledge, the skills, and the boost up to get us going when we leave but only time will tell if we have the strength to keep fighting this battle that is far from over.

Benji admits his fear of going back to that which he knows so well. He is afraid that, amidst everything else, the eating disorder will fit right in again. Its such a very common fear among us and yet is not often spoken aloud. Maybe its denial. Maybe its that no one wants to potentially jinx their chances. Whatever the reason though, if its seen in the right light, that fear is power and the recognition of it gives us that much more of a fighting chance against it. No one ever defeated an enemy by pretending their opponent didn’t exist.

Benji says that he truly cannot imagine going home and dealing with his old life without his eating disorder again. He has been anorexic since the age of 15 and it has stolen some of the most important years of his life from him, including the transition from teenager into adulthood. He has no idea what his life would be like without so much of his time revolving around the eating disorder and its complications. I try and reassure him that there is more out there in the world but that doesn’t make the letting go of a constant companion any easier.

However, the next thing out of his mouth turns some tables. He says that he also can’t imagine going home and winding up so deeply in the depths of the disorder again. That right there is a hell of a thing to say. Both statements reflect reality and reek of honesty as they clarify a hope that is refusing to leave. I suggest to Benji that maybe he just can’t imagine life without it because the truth is that we will never really be recovered…we will always be in recovery. For myself, at least, I know that I can retain my positivity of being able to stay on the right track but I can’t let the notion that I am done fighting blur my vision. If I stop remembering the hold the eating disorder had on me, at any point in the future, that will give it the best opportunity to sneak right back in. Weather its 2 months from now or 10 years I can’t ever forget about the havoc it once wreaked on my body and mind. I can only hope that thats what not being able to imagine life without it means and I wish the best for each person soon to be on their way home.

Predictions do not equal facts

So many of the other patients discharge dates are coming up seemingly all at once. I guess, when they got here, they came in a wave that spanned only a couple of weeks and now they are all leaving on the crest of the opposite tide. Our numbers are starting to dwindle and with all those close to departure going out on passes around the city so frequently it becomes apparent during mealtimes when there are only 3 or 4 or us at the table. With everyone gone the silence that didn’t seem possible before echoes through the dimly lit halls.

Generally the space created by one of us returning home is filled almost instantly. Occasionally its even a day or two before, as they did with me when my bed was in the quiet room for my first 2 nights. But we haven’t had anyone new since the arrival of Diane almost 3 weeks ago. Diane herself has since adjusted to life within and seems to be fitting with the rest of us quite nicely in her own little way. She retains some of her cautious aloofness, remaining on the outskirts of most groups and spending just about all of her spare time reading, but she is now quick with a smile and much easier to converse with.

I do hope they are able to bring some new people in soon. I’m not sure I really like the absence of life in this place where health is the main concern. It just doesn’t sit well with me and seems to carry with it an odd sense of unease. There have been a few rumors floating around to do with the possibility of a new arrival sometime next week but no one knows for sure. Right now we have 2 beds open and a week from today we will have at least 2 more. Even though there is always some stress, for both us and them, when someone new comes in and it takes a little while for them to adjust, it still makes things that much more eventful when it does.

While walking outside this morning during one of our fresh air breaks there was a conversation of predictions. In a perfect world (aside from none of us being here in the first place) each one of us who leaves these walls would have complete recovery success. Heck, we would all have not only complete recovery success the perfect mending of our outside relationships. Our previous jobs would not only allow us back but would have also missed us when we were gone. We’d get to do all the things we ever wanted to do in time and be happy as clams while everything came up rosy around us…

The truth is though, while some of that might become reality for a few of us, not everyone here will find recovery playing the significant role it was cast for in their lives. We HOPE everyone will get better but there are just some people who seem to have a much better chance than others. So much of eating disorder recovery depends on your state of mind and personal attitude towards it.

…to be continued…

Mousse is a must

It was time. We all sat in the Yankees-themed Applebees restaurant scouring our menus and realizing, to one degree or another, that the trial had begun. Minds were made up and then changed, decisions rethought and questioned, leading to the changing of minds again. This was the first time I had sat down in the context of a restaurant, with the actual intent of ordering something real and nourishing, in a couple of years.

We were a group consisting of five patients, my peers, and four of the unit’s staff members. The long table was two smaller ones that had been pushed together and we were seated in a section of which we were the only patrons. The Applebees had ample room to accommodate us with it being noon on a Wednesday but, apparently the cooks weren’t properly equipped for a larger group such as ours. It took a good 45 minutes for our orders to emerge from the kitchen if I started counting from the point of the waitress jotting them down.

Noon was the normal kick-off point for lunch on the unit and we were all in tune to that schedule so, by the time it showed up at 1:15 our stomachs were louder than our conversation. Talia was the main staff member to oversee portions, prices, and consumption of each of our meals and she tried her best to do so without seeming too obvious about it. From start to finish there were little things that went unnoticed, or at least unaddressed, but this was meant to be a less stressful venture as far as protocol went. All of us were already riddled with anxiety at the meer thought of deciding what to eat and doing it in a public restaurant setting.

For me it was sort of rough in the way that I really wanted to know what I was going to order before we got there as an attempt to thwart the upcoming stress. A few of us found the menu online, which we were told we could do, and looked over their offerings since we hadn’t stepped foot in an Applebees in 2 or more years. This act seemed to backfire though because it seemed that once I saw their online options I then had too much time to think about it before the trip. Laura, Benji, and I were just torturing ourselves trying to come up with the perfect balanced meal that would satisfy all of our lunchtime requirements. This went on for a couple of days until, the night before the trip, I just told myself to leave it alone and decide what I wanted when I got there. There is definitely something to be said for wingin’ it on occasion.

In the end I wound up getting a 7 oz. sirloin steak with broccoli, a side of fries, and…wait for it…it needs a pause to emphasize its decadence…an Oreo chocolate mousse shooter with whipped cream for dessert!

(This picture doesn't do the taste justice.)

Don’t let the name fool you. The term “shooter” makes it sound small but really it is just the right size for a single person’s portion in all its chocolatey richness. Out of the meal I ate all of the steak, about half the fries, and just some of the broccoli. The shooter I ate almost all of myself except for a few bites that I gave around the table so some of the others could see what they were missing.

All in all I’d say the lunch was a success. When I start to get passes and am able to go out on my own I can only hope that not having a staff member around to keep me in check won’t change how I feel. Right now I am looking forward to getting passes and having a chance to try all the good foods I have been missing out on and I don’t want to lose that excitement. I think I will do what I did when I had been trying to pre-plan the meal though… I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

Earning the goods

I elevator down with Clara in her stiff white lab coat for the next research study on the agenda. We floor-hop for a minute, letting others on and off, before deboarding to head to the same room that the sweetener study was held in. Mostly the room hadn’t changed still housing the same little bed, same cameras on the walls, same desk with the same laptop computer on it, except this time there was a large black treadmill in one corner. I had to stop myself from scanning the paneled ceiling for a water bottle drip within the confines of the human hamster cage.

I sat down at the desk and was given a two page questionnaire to help pinpoint different levels of emotion I might be feeling at the moment. Before shutting the door behind her as she exited the room Clara placed the same little call button as last time to my right so I could notify her when I was finished. Not being particularly angry, depressed, excited or overly emotional in any other way I flew through the paperwork and started my stint on the laptop. This study also involved the repeated pressing of buttons in order to earn rewards but the incentive was different this time. This one was called the “work for exercise” study.

I couldn’t help thinking in the back of my mind that it was silly for a person to be willing to sit and push a button for upwards of 40 minutes, switching hands until both wrists hurt, just for a maximum of 30 minutes of slow walking on a treadmill. I understand how this would be a totally fine reward for a person who has an exercise addiction, which many people with eating disorders do have. However, I couldn’t keep my mind from ruminating on the absurdity of that reward anyways. If we didn’t have fresh air time that we were able to walk around during, and had to remain sedentary on a constant basis like I did at Remuda, that tiny bit of movement may have been seen as much more desirable. Heck, who knows, I may have even worked the full 40 minutes for the half hour trade.

Apparently I wasn’t the only one who saw the treadmill time as something not worth working for. They had added in a second reward of cash that I could press the button to earn. The maximum of that was $30 and it was received at the end of the session. As the exercise minutes accumulated 3 at a time, the money built $3 at a time as well and at the end of each earning I could decide which of those two things I wanted to work for during the next session.

I picked the cash. Of course I picked to work for the cash. If the treadmill had been the only reward the test to see how hard I would work for it’s company would have been over before I laid one finger on the button. I clicked away for about 12 minutes, switching hands, switching fingers, and eventually stopped when my wrists started getting sore. My need to do artwork pain-free outweighed my desire for more money. If I had kept it up, going for the whole $30, I doubt I would have been able to draw anything for the rest of the afternoon, or even write this entry now, without feeling the repercussions.

In the end I wound up with $15 which i figured would buy me about 3 weeks worth of morning coffee from the upstairs cafe. All in all it was a satisfying experience. I filled out one more short questionnaire about my moods and anxiety levels at that particular moment, rang my little buzzer, and sat back to wait for Clara’s escort to go upstairs again.

A dawning

Monday morning and its a quarter to six as I sit here at my worn wooden desk. I’ve got my little purple booklight attached at a workable angle so that it shines only, but brightly, focused on my notebook. With Elle still asleep in one of her innumerable bizarre positions across the small room I am weary of waking her with the searing glare of the overhead. I think its nicer this way though, with darkness still curling around the edges of my periphery. Its makes me feels like I am the only person in the world thats awake at the moment enjoying this unnatural silence. Everyone else will be up soon enough.

With my head in my hand I find myself staring vacantly at the light greenish-gray wall in front of me, my mind miles away. Its pleasantly surprising to realize that my palm is actually cupping cheek. There is actual, real, soft flesh on my face. I have a presence of health, of life, to now rest in my hand. It has replaced the angular strictness of my jawbone and the definitive protrusion of facial contours. I’m starting to feel a little more whole, more like a person of substance, one who matters, these days. Its a good feeling that for me can only be described as having previously been a ghost that is now slowly coming back to life. If this is what reincarnation is then I’m all for it.

The little Buddha belly, that I’m told only I notice, has gone again. It builds up at the end of each day and then quietly disappears as I sleep. I’m hungry and my stomach is audibly reminding me of that fact but breakfast is still an hour and a half away. I know all things in their due time but my stomach remains impatient. I breathe and realize that my fingertips still smell like oranges, the result of dinner last night. The scent doesn’t help to quiet my belly. This morning we have weights again and, although I was sure yesterday that I wouldn’t have a problem due to the fullness, at this point I’m a little bit wary. Its all due to what I have dubbed “that wacky metabolism”. We’ve all got it here, loud and clear, and none of us can predict it.

So the clock ticks and dawn slowly breaks outside illuminating the eastern windows of the tall surrounding buildings in gold. Its supposed to be another hot one today although not as bad as the last few weeks this heat wave has laid on all of us. When I checked the computer the prediction was a high of 90 with sun. Hopefully the mugginess will stay to a minimum. Thats whats been the real killer during fresh air breaks recently. Its hard not wanting to be continuously cooped up indoors but also not wanting to be bathing in my own sweat upon the first step outside. This is one time a happy medium may not be found.

I hear a soft “whump” behind me and turn to see that Elle has knocked her pillow to the linoleum floor in her sleep again. She is softly snoozing on her back with one leg awkwardly crossed over the other and everything from the collarbone up is hanging off the edge of the bed along with her right arm. I have no idea how she sleeps like that but, whatever the reason, it seems to work for her. I rise from my desk to retrieve the lost pillow and smile to myself as I put it down by her feet, the only place on the mattress with enough room. Just then there is a knock at the door and the announcement of “weights” peals loud and clear before traveling on down the hall toward the other rooms. I put on my socks and step out to begin the day.

Oh happy day

Today was officially “Sneak some zucchini onto your neighbor’s porch day”, or at least it is according to the obscure holidays website we found while surfing the interweb a few weeks ago. I just finished writing that fact on the dry erase board in the dining room after first taking off yesterday’s declaration of “National Mustard Day”.

I’m harboring a strangely funky positive attitude and definitely not complaining about it. Maybe its because its nice to have everyone here again, as opposed to yesterday when I was basically alone all day while everyone else went to the Cloisters museum…stupid RTU.  Maybe its because I have had such a driving success with my little foray into the world of liquid acrylics. I seriously can’t get enough of them. I think they will be my favorite medium for a while. Maybe though its the prospect of being off of RTU tomorrow and starting the day off with the first menu I got to plan myself.

Who knows. I’m not going to question this good feeling though…

I’m just going to live it!