Group therapy comes after naptime. It takes the first half hour of the two hour slot for everyone to be awake enough to actually talk coherently. Well, there are a few people who never get coherent. She always does the bare minimum required in group, hating to bare her secrets, her issues, with these strangers.

Afternoon meds at three-thirty, followed by the only free time she has all day from three-forty-five until five-thirty. She tends to stay in her room then, working on sketches of her dreams or just working out. It all depends on how her dreams and group go.

Dinner tends to taste like better than average TV dinners, but it’s palatable enough to fill her belly. That’s all she can ask. After dinner is free time for two hours, usually spent zoning in front of the TV, then forty-five minutes of journaling about her day as part of her therapy process. Last meds are at eight-forty-five and lights out is at nine. She hates lights out because they lock the doors. It makes her feel like she’s back in prison, which she is in a way, and the anxiety kicks in hard enough each night that Dr. Hopper prescribed meds to help her sleep. They cause total blackout sleep, no dreams to help her through the long hours, and she wakes up groggily at six a.m. with the slamming of her door to start the process all over again.