Today I a) had a smoothie, b) did an art therapy exercise instead of knocking back a benzo, and c) went for a walk to the park.


At least – when I’m not totally batshit, I am. I’m getting used to my life not making any sense. I am practising radical acceptance of insanity. And yep, that makes someone feel a little sick.

I’d even managed to forget I had therapy tomorrow. (Fuck, I have therapy tomorrow!).

And now I feel batshit again. I mean, let’s get real, this whole DID thing is a bit of a crazy idea, isn’t it? How can it be true?

And in an alternate universe, how can it be true that I have spent so many years trying to ignore what my dreams and “voices” and feelings have been trying to say? I mean, isn’t *that* crazy, to completely deny the meaning and reality of your experience?

I think I’m going to let my psychologist read some of the letters that have been written to her. I think there’s some stuff she needs to know.

And now I’m going to have some nutritious soup. With lentils and everything. Totally recovered, see?

(And then I’m going to take that lorazepam I didn’t take this morning and hide in bed)