I woke up very restless today. I didn't sleep well during the night either. I woke up at 4:30 a.m., and from that time on I could no longer sleep, or at least no more than half an hour. Still in bed, I thought about my paternal grandfather, and my anxiety rose, just as it does when I think about the house where I lived the first eight years of my life (I really have no memory of the house, beyond the address and I know quite well where it is in my hometown). But the anxiety went down again when I stopped thinking about my grandfather, or of this house. I got up late, and felt strange, very restless, and didn't know what to do.
I had breakfast, and started making bread (yesterday I started with the sourdough). Then I went out for what I hoped would be a walk through a multitude of pharmacies to get my hormones. On the street I met some friends, one of them another nonbinary person, who told me about a experience with transphobe police a few days ago. The shitty police.We talked some more (keeping the damn distance, without hugging), and I continued to the first pharmacy.  Surprisingly they had my hormones. How nice! But at the same time, too bad, here goes my walk...
Having got my hormones I went home to continue with the bread, and - listen to music. The restlessness remained. I wanted to go out again, go to the river, but for fear of the police, a second identification and ending up in the police cell, I stayed at home. I didn't know what to do with my restlessness. I wasn't able to concentrate on anything. More music, with headphones and high volume. Ezra Furman: Twelve Nudes. Then I heated up the vegan pizza from the day before. And more music. Laura Jane Grace: Bought to Rot.
To get out I took the rubbish to the bin in the square - 50m there, 50m back. Far from enough. I feel confined. I don't have the energy to read, or to pick up the guitar and learn to play it. I talked to a friend on the phone. And I feel like going out and throwing stones at any police car or breaking all the windows in the police station. I won't do that. And the restlessness remains. And anger. Rage at ridiculous confinement, with meaningless rules (what risk is there when a person goes out alone for a walk?). Rage at our gay and fascist Minister of Interior Grande-Marlaska, who defends the "hard hand" of the police against anyone breaking out of the confinement (and at a mainstream LGTB movement that celebrates any idiot or gay fascist as a minister - shit!) I don't know what to do with this anger (beyond throwing rocks at police cars).
I'm staying at home. Restless. With nothing to do. Confined.