I wonder if it’s all part of making me let go.

There’s no cellphone reception at the Retreat so to make contact with the outside world you have to use their landline. This morning I think I was on the phone too long, and was promptly given a PIN number for future use. I weakly said my friend had called me back, but still felt like a naughty little girl. And not in a good way.

Not allowed to watch movies in the lounge in the afternoon either; it needs to stay a ‘neutral’ space apparently.

I asked if it was possible to mix the fruit and vegetable juice together. It’s not normal protocol, but they did it for me. Please don’t put me off oranges for life I pleaded overly dramatically.

I am expecting a call to the ‘meal’ table pretty soon. I’m still lounging in bed at 9:42. There’ll be a knock on the door and sweet Rachel will ask if I’m ready for my juice. It’s a rhetorical question.

The grief is in the resistance.

I wish they’d have handed out the retreat rules on our arrival. It would be easier than discovering them by breaking them one by one. Was that a rule was it? So sorry about that. Sort of.