Remember when I mentioned yesterday that if Therapist had no space for me my mood would likely plummet? Well, she rang. She has no space, and will meet me for a chat, not a session, on 13th April, to talk about what happened and see if there’s a way forward we’re both comfortable with. Plummet is a really polite word for how I reacted. Disintegrate comes closer, although still not close enough.

Above is what she said. And here is what I heard – ‘I won’t see you until the 13th because I’m incredibly disappointed in how you behaved and you need to learn a lesson. When we meet, I will most likely bollock you out of it for behaving so badly, and cut off therapy because I really can’t tolerate working with you any more. You’re a truly horrible, manipulative person, and you’ve brought this on yourself.’ Hence the disintegration. This is possibly not what she meant, but it’s what I heard, and it’s what I feel.

I said yesterday that bpd is merciless. It’s worse. Not only is it merciless, it’s vindictive, because this whole sorry mess is of my own making. I have finally, after much effort, managed to push away the one person who has supported me unconditionally, no matter how many times I’ve gone over the same thing again and again and again.

Thankfully right now I’ve moved from hysterical to blissfully numb. If I’m lucky numb will keep going till I see her. But I have four weeks to get through. Four weeks in which to try and convince myself there may possibly be a different meaning behind what she said, and four weeks in which bpd will do everything possible to make me believe otherwise.

I’m breaking my sugar ban.

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