Housework, PT, and hormones pretty much sums up this week so far. It's all gone well though, so I can't complain. My relationships professionally are rearing their ugly heads too. It's why I agreed to meet my PT at the gym, or rather, it was her idea. Good, one boundary down, many more to go. My body is what it is, and I love it. She can say anything, and my mind goes nuts. Too bad. My childhood is a poster for those who need to stay inspired and alive. I've been thinking about doing a civil suit for psychological reasons, and then, thought that my childhood PT may not be worth the time or money spent anyway. I have DID, and will more than likely have it the rest of my so called life, so here goes nothing. The childhood staff knew better, but failed miserably at using boundaries. To hell with them. Smite me, O' mighty PTs and staff. I've been to Hell, and I think you'll enjoy your stay.

Anyway, the current PT and staff haven't sent a note yet, so I am still waiting to hear back about how we plan to address my body. The terminology could afford a little shakeup now and then. My mind is a lost cause anyway, so that won't matter.

I'm just trying to reestablish something I never even had...boundaries.