After a long search, I did find a new psychiatrist. So far, she's been really amazing. But that hasn't stopped me from heading to the hospital twice this year so far. So, Medicare, how many private hospitalization days do I have left now? Don't answer that.
My therapist is amazing. She puts up with so much from me-midnight emails, late payments, missed appointments, and the general hullabaloo that is DID. It sure is messed up.
This week, I had the honor of meeting another part of myself. D has been hovering near the surface for a while. She recently asked a friend of mine to assist my suicide. Now I know why I ended up in the hospital a few weeks ago, though the hospital didn't think it was necessary for me to figure out why I was there before letting me go. What's up with that?
There's a new chaplain/pastoral care person in the hospital I usually end up in. I hope that one day she will find this and know how much I appreciate how much she helped me while I was there. It amazes me that a chassidish woman is so open and willing to talk about my issues, without any euphemisms. Thank you Dobra, for all your help!
The grant that has been helping me pay for my therapy for the last year is up now. I don't know how I'm going to continue paying. I wish the people I usually discuss this kind of stuff with were around, but I can't seem to get in touch with anyone.
D is so close to the surface. I really need her to go inside. Somehow, the china plates she is shattering in her safe place is not enough for her. I wish this week were a regular therapy week and she could come out in therapy on Friday, but my next session isn't until Monday.
B had a good time this week building our friend's dresser. He would have been happier with me if we hadn't had to stop in the middle-twice-bit hopefully we'll get to finish it tomorrow and he will be happy with the results.
That's the news in the system.
Safe flying, butterfly friends!