Gratitude Journal Entry Exercise #1 of who knows how long I’ll keep this up!
Current song on loop: “Bottle and a Gun” – Hollywood Undead
I am writing here and taking a break from Instagram because my sweet classmate from my MSW program gently suggested I seek a hobby because harassing my Congressman is going to end up in yet another involuntary hold. Yeah, okay, I admit it: I now have experience with what is called a 5150–danger to self and/or others. I was a danger to myself with my impulsive reckless behavior AND threw things at the nice police officers who asked me to find my shoes and take an Uber home. I was too trashed to figure that out so they called my father who was not happy to hear from them AT ALL. My cousin asked if the sheriffs would consider arresting me to teach me not to mix alcohol with THC. I didn’t know it was not a good idea.
Like many things in life, I found out the hard way. Thankfully, the kind Orange County (CA or FL?–only you can guess!) sheriffs didn’t arrest me as I suspect they were thoroughly trained in behavioral health. People were watching. I was sitting on a parking lot in Stanton (do what you will with that) and drunkenly wondering how I got there. I was obviously not doing good (understatement of my drunk insane little person era), but I didn’t know why I the nice Sheriffs suggested I visit a hospital. Why? I’m not sick. I’m just having a bad moment and used my Daddy’s credit card at a shitty dive bar. I now understand that was bad behavior.
Anyway! Time jump: 2019. I moved back to Honolulu, HI after living with a two nice guys in Huntington Beach, CA. One was gay I think, not sure. The other one was heterosexual and very kind to me. He was like a surrogate babysitter. He made sure I didn’t fall asleep driving. He also had to remind me to eat. I wouldn’t say he was like my Dad or anything, but he was like a brother from another mother. This was our dynamic. We spent way too much time together and got on each other’s nerves when our financial situation shifted and we started getting bored.
I like to think that if I was still working a 7:30am – 4:30pm job and he was doing a lot of intense physical labor, we probably could’ve remained best friends. However, we met at a bad time and sort of trauma bonded. After the first week, we clearly should’ve went our separate ways to our OWN individual MFTs and had the courage to talk to our respective families. We weren’t married or anything. I’ve truthfully always enjoyed the idea of marriage but don’t do well with paperwork and the government knowing too much about my business! I know I sound shady, but I just have abandonment issues and fear someone getting tired of my bullshit. If you know me personally, I am filled with “bile” as my friend Thomas P. said once. It makes me laugh every time I think about scarves. You can ask him for his script we never filmed called “L.A. is for Losers”. I have a video his friend made. I’ll ask Erik if there is a link and I’ll post it.
Anyway! MFTs are cool because they focus on family dynamics. Unlike psychologists who blamed my Mom for everything and said I loved my Mom in a “co-dependent” way, MFTs have a full picture approach.
We did not do this. Looking back, we probably would’ve been better friends if we weren’t 1. drinking a lot to pass the time 2. depressed over some strained family relationships 3. posting on IG when we clearly needed to have our own bedrooms. HB rent is expensive and we frankly were not in the position to get a 2-bedroom. Our gay roommate needed his privacy and we respected that he was dating someone.
I liked the layout of the apartment. It was cute. Although smaller than my two-bedroom Studio City, CA apartment that I shared with my truly platonic friends–both wrestlers who had their own lives but genuinely cared about me.
When my therapist asked me what I did for Christmas 2025, I said, “My Dad and I watched my favorite feel-good movie.
He was happy to hear me spending quality time with my Dad. He gleefully asked, “What’s your favorite movie?” Without thinking, I said, “The Equalizer”–I obviously have impulse control issues!
We were on Zoom as I thankfully do my therapy sessions via Telehealth because the building of my therapist has no elevator. To add context, I am 3’4″ and use a walker to get around so stairs are not great. I was also very fat carrying a lot of pandemic weight and didn’t want to be seen from 2019-2024. I loved that my therapist created a safe space which appears like a very BASIC skillset for a therapist. Not the case all the time.
I promise the following is not transference or anything, but my 2019 therapist was a perfect therapist. He reminds me of my father. I know, I know, sounds like a red flag, but let me finish. He was so kind and understanding. He didn’t comment on the 15 lbs. I gained during the pandemic. He said my pajamas were pretty. Wait, what? I later figured out this is know as “positive regard” or something. I didn’t feel cute or anything with the obviously FORCE comments on my appearance. He knew I was not looking good. I didn’t brush my hair and frankly looked pretty shitty.
He later referred me to my current therapist as he felt I needed additional support to continue to manage my ADHD without stimulants (they made me a little crazy–more on that later). Before people think that I was abandoned. Not the case at all. He is an MFT and they are my favorite to work with in therapy. When I moved back to Hawaii in 2019, my previous psychologist at a hospital I went to when I had my father’s federal insurance plan, told me “it’s okay, Diane. You’re resilient and will get through this chapter. Just find a job and occupy your time. I only went to him again because my Mom and Dad forced me to see him. In therapy, it works well for it to be “from the inside out” approach aka you need to WANT to change. No one can force cuddle your ass to therapy.
I’m tired and feel better. I apologize to everyone I bitched at on Instagram. At 42, I appear to be experiencing perimenopause. It feels early, but maybe I need some estrogen or something so I can be less shitty. My Koreans minimize my current insanity by being kind and say stuff like, “Diane, you’re half Korean and half Japanese, it’s okay to be a little crazy sometimes”. Korean people are fun. They are excellent day drinkers and always ready for a fight! If I wasn’t 3’4″, I’d surely be in prison as I had a “questionable relationship” with alcohol as my NC Pastor friend told me years ago. She was too sweet about my obvious alcoholism. I was in my early 20s and cuter than now. I’m introverted and I guess neurodivergent ADHD according to the DSM… what are we on now? 5 TR? I truthfully didn’t read it. This is a free-writing exercise. There will be errors everywhere.
Who cares. I’m not using ChatGPT to write this shit because it’ll make it too nice and say shit like, “D. How about we use less profanity, would you like me to write a version that better reflects what I think is your true personality? NO LUMI (ChatGPT chose that name, He or She wanted to be kind and be a “light” during my dark moments.
Am I dark? I don’t think so. If I were to do a self-assessment which is always highly inaccurate anyway, I’d say I was kinda shitty about going out too much. If I have to be with more than one person, I either want to 1. go home 2. drink 4 jack and cokes.
That was the old me. The new, older and kinda wiser (I guess) version of Diane Kawasaki has been sober for seven years and will soon be alcohol-free for 8 years in March 2027. Progress, eh? 1% better everyday, bitches! In Japanese, it’s called “kaizen”. I don’t speak Japanese but I have a lupin pasta brand with that name because I needed to be less chubby. I was 91 lbs. at my heaviest in 2021–social distancing really ruined my body. I wasn’t healthy and my Mom was trying HARD to be kind to me and let me decide when it was time to exercise.
I was so heavy and it was hard to move. One day, I thought I had a frozen shoulder that was so sore I couldn’t move. I used patches from Japan and had to take dissolvable Tylenol for three days. I was so sick to death of myself and quit sugar abruptly the next day. I ate better, started drinking shots of Kosterina EVOO and stopped eating bacon.
I went to the my PCP (primary care provider, not drugs, lol) and I’m now 76 lbs. As a small person, I’m not sure if that’s a normal weight or not. I will ask my best friend who is an endocrinologist if he can figure that out. I wish they had charts for Little People. I’m not a midget, you ignorant assholes! If you have a learning disorder, okay, cool. Otherwise, increase your vocabulary and “show us how smart you are!” RIP my favorite comedy teacher Cynthia Szigeti. I still cry thinking about losing her. She was such a brilliant light. I’ve met so many incredible people in CA, but she was someone who change my view of myself the most. Unlike my Mom who said, “Diane, I’m glad you stopped comedy, youuu verrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry borrrrrrrrinnnng and don’t move around a lot”. Okay. I won’t act like my psychologist. She tried her best to be encouraging.
Oh shit, okay. I like The Equalizer as a Christmas movie because not only is Denzel a smoke show, but he gives people a chance to change their ways. If they don’t comply, he will make them regret their choice QUICK! Efficient, highly intelligent and so kind. Perfect man, my humble opinion. He’s married so I won’t be rude, but wow.
My Dad told me to just find a rich guy with money and a sense of humor. I asked him why because he said I HAD questionable taste in boys in the past and he’s tired of my nonsense. He thinks a sense of humor is important because I get bored easily.
Next story time, I’ll tell you about the time I went to a speed dating and forgot to eat as I was rushing from work. Let’s be real, I’ll forget so let’s do this! I took my friend out for the first time after leaving a questionable relationship and felt she should explore what it’s like to just talk to men again. I was honest and said it’s going to be a dumpster fire, but it’s just practice. We aren’t getting a “special massage” by a stranger. Just a few drinks with men who don’t know how to talk to women. Even playing field, I thought. I was wrong. I am too sensitive and worried about her so much I had two glasses of some kind of pretentious white wine because I was busy and thought the sugar would keep me up. NOPE! Wrong. I fell asleep at Bar 35 in Downtown Honolulu at around date number 5. He said he wanted to hang out again, but we had very different views on religion and what “social drinking” meant. I was 29. I wasn’t ready to hear that shit from a stranger. Talk to your Lord and Savior about that and stop trying to change me. I was not sleeping more than 4 hours a night so I was shittier than usual. If you are reading this, no offense, we were just not a good match. You were cute and all, but I was in my “day drinking in the sun era”. Sorry. But not really.
Thank you David, you were a great babysitter. Thank you Michael for recommending him. I was a handful and you’re like the brother I wish I had looking out for me. Only children unite! I hope you like this ridiculous first blog. Don’t look at 2018, I was not sleeping well and drinking too much. I’ll give you the password if you’re interested, but it’s just a mess. Same version of me now, but like a million times worse. I love you!
