When I said "bye" on the phone yesterday evening you ended with "goodnight." It was probably just automatic habit, but it felt weirdly intimate. In like a I want you to tuck me in like a kid way, not a romantic or sexual way. That I was lying in bed when I answered your call probably contributed to the feeling.

I could tell from your voice that you were concerned.
I wish I could have been the one to tell you that my insurance company reversed their decision about covering the IOP today. Did they tell you that I spent an hour on the phone with them Wednesday? Were you excited or relieved for me? Were you proud of me? I want you to know that I wanted this badly enough to do that and insist on being able to get a chance to advocate for myself. And it sounded like my phone call was what ended up making the difference.
I want to get better.

I've been realizing lately that, even though I still want you to worry about me and all that stuff, lately I've been wanting you to be proud of me. I think that's progress. I wish I could share that with you, but I'm not ready to talk about the details of my transference on top of everything else. That one can wait.