Well, it's 10 weeks until I finish therapy. Finally.

The Samaritans call really fucked me over. I can look back on it briefly and when I do, I think, wow, I just don't know how I kept going. But I guess that's always been the way, I've always kept going and I've never had the luxury of stopping. Hospital is when I got to stop before.

I feel that even my bpd is relatively tamed. I don't panic. Dan doesn't make me panic.

For a moment I briefly panicked that Dan was once again another choice on my behalf of choosing someone unavailable but I don't think that's the case, I'm too invested for it to be that way. I really hope things get better after his court case.

I'm feeling much more positive about uni as well. Apart from the shit show that is their enrolment team. Honestly, can't wait to be done with it.

Anyway, there's a builder coming early to check the kitchen roof and I want to read some creepy Reddit before bed and maybe even get a night sleep without the cat? He's moping downstairs atm, I anticipate him waking me up several times in the night. I'm not sure who moves first, me or the cat, but I always seem to wake up sleeping on a different side to where I started. Sigh.