"Did you say it? 'I love you. I don't ever want to live without you. You changed my life.' Did you say it? Make a plan. Set a goal. Work toward it, but every now and then, look around; Drink it in 'cause this is it. It might all be gone tomorrow."
So today was quite a day. I met with my psychiatrist for only the second time, and it was the first time we've talked about diagnosis. He changed both my anti-depression and sleep medication, so hopefully I'll get some relief in those areas. He asked me what I thought my diagnosis was. When I told him Borderline Personality Disorder, he seemed pleasantly surprised. Most borderlines apparently don't like to admit something's wrong, he agrees with me so far though. I have another visit with him next week, and he recommended that I start going to group therapy, but that makes for a lot of trips to the itty bitty clinic that's so far of a drive from home. My husband and I are back together, "trying to work things out," which consists mainly of me telling him what he needs to change and him still being an asshole to me. I don't know what to do. He came back because he wanted to try, but when he doesn't try, what's the point. I'm looking at the amount of medication in front of me that I'm prescribed. It's insane and excessive. Snuff by Slipknot fits well right now, thanks VonDieter. I miss you. Really. I wonder what the point is. I wrote a poem a few years back, "Suicide is Always an Option." It may not be to all, but to me, it is. I wonder who would care...who would miss me. Most of the time, I think only my furbabies would even notice. Dr. Cap (The psychiatrist) made me promise not to kill myself, but not to stop cutting. Even he thought that making that promise would be futile. I hate that I'm doing it again, and that it's worse than ever, but somehow it helps. I can't explain how, and I know it doesn't make sense, but it helps.