For the last few months I have been so proud of myself. I have not cut at all.......it was very hard at first, but I thought that I would never do it again.

Until just a few minutes ago. My arm looks like it has been dragged thru barbed wire. I've been angry at my T because for the last 2 weeks he hasn't contacted me in anyway just to make sure I was doing okay. I didn't expect a phone call, but an email would have only taken a minute.

Then my insurance company sent me a letter stating that I have reached my maximum benefit limit for mental health and they will not pay any portion of my bills for the year. It's only February!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

When I saw my T on Thursday, he wanted to get me back on a weekly schedule with him. I never mentioned how upset with him I was. Later I sent him an email and vented. He claims that he didn't know I wanted him to call. What's up with that?? I told him that if he cared, he would have been concerned enough to at least send an email - friends (even ones that don't socialize outside work) do that. [sigh]

So, here I sit thinking and just pick up the knife. I couldn't throw it away before, even when I wasn't cutting.

Now I want to more, I remember how it feels, what it does for me. I feel like an addict...........oh my g*d, I know it won't stop again. I thought the meds has sufficiently stopped my impulses - I know they have made me feel very detached from life and that is why I haven't been stressing.

It is 1:38am - I have to go to bed before I do more damage. And this latest is very visible...............