Well fuck me, my dears. Shit has gotten real, and I, apparently, have no choice but to face it. I started out this round of therapy in a less intensive program, but by day two it was clear to me, and my treatment team, and anyone who knows me really, that I needed more, that I’d been triggered, so I was bumped up today to the six hour, dive into the blackness inside you and swim in it, program. I am now in what they call a ‘Partial Hospitalization Program’. Lucky me! Six hours a day of therapy, five days a week. Cuz, ya know, I have time for this shit. However, I have little choice. I am suddenly an utter mess, on the verge of tears 24/7, unable to eat properly or sleep and all because I have now, after three years of chipping away at it, finally come to the core of the problem, the crux, and fucking hell I do not, do not, do not, want to face it. But I have to. I have no other choice. It’s that or die. Because, if I don’t do this, if I don’t jump feet first into the muck and rip it out of me, I am eventually going to do something I know I will regret. Something that doesn’t just leave a scar. Something I won’t be coming back from. So this is me, taking the plunge, finally facing my fucking demons, finally admitting to them, finally sitting with them, finally looking at them and talking about them, and oh my fucking god, does it hurt! The word ‘mess’ does not even begin to cover the state that I am currently in. And I keep seeing my poor loved ones struggling to be there, struggling to find a way to ease my suffering. But they can’t. Only I can. This is my shit storm of a battle and I am taking up arms and walking into the fray. I’m honestly not even sure if I’m going to make it out. I have nothing left but to try.