I feel like My life has ended. I asked God to remove all the things I didn’t need and help Memove forth. Who would think that meant he’s take everything. In less than a year I’ve lost My best friend of 15 years, My money, My lovers and now the glue that holds Me together, My shrink.

I can still remember when I walked into her office back in 2009. I had been having a mental breakdown for at least a few months. My behavior and attitude had been progressively getting more aggressive and I was constantly in fear. I had a few incidences in My own neighborhood where I’d come out the house to run to the store and end up in a situation where I was uncomfortable. There had been guys who have walked up to Me in My own neighborhood and recognized Me from the internet and had made lewd and rude comments about My body and what they would do to Me. In one store, a guy touched My ass and I went home to get My knife and go back for him. My best friend, the minister who I lived with at the time, went around the corner to talk to them so I wouldn’t go catch a record.

I carried My knife every day after that. First in My pocket, then in My hand, then with the blade extended as I walked the streets. I knew I had snapped and was to the point that if the wrong person approached Me the right time, I was going to jail. I had a dr appointment and asked My dr if they knew where I could seek mental help. They directed Me down the hall I walked in and said “I need to see someone because if I don’t I think I’m going to kill somebody.” I was given an appointment for the next day.

I started therapy with a bad attitude, feeling the person was getting paid to listen to Me so they would never care. Before therapy, I’ve only had one person in My life that truly cared for Me. Over the least 7 years, I gained another. My therapist became My best friend over the last 7 years. I trust her opinion over My own most times, I can tell her anything, talk to her about everything. When My son started exhibiting emotional instability, it was My therapist who helped me gain the strength to help him. When I had to have surgery, My therapist was in the pre-op room with Me by My side. When I lost the love of My life and My best friend of 15 years, My therapist was there. While I bounced around from living in someone’s home, stayed in a boarding house with 5 men, while I was the only female, lived in a place that was later condemned while I lived there until I finally found a stable home three years ago, My therapist has been by My side every step helping Me maintain. Through therapy I have stopped being promiscuous, stopped putting Myself in harmful situations daily, and found coping mechanisms for My anxiety and other mental issues.

I have seen this woman 1-3 days a week for seven years and suddenly when I went to My appointment yesterday, she had tears in her eyes. In the seven years we’ve been seeing each other she went back to school and got new certifications and degrees. My therapist is amazing, I was her first patient who suffered from multiple personalities so she went to learn how to help Me. Well guess what? Her new degree isn’t covered by Medicare and because I’m legally disabled that’s My insurance.

After 7 years, and thousands of pills. At one point I was taking 13 pills a day. I couldn’t function. With the support of My therapist I went off all the pills cold turkey almost 4 years ago and have literally been surviving just on therapy and My daily strength. Turns out I didn’t need all the pills, I just needed her. Someone who cared, who listened, who I trusted. The only stability in My life just ripped from Me with no warning.

I left her office in tears yesterday, I walked the streets aimlessly, crying. I cried the whole way home on the bus. Came home, cried drank and smoked until I passed out. I’ve been up since 2 a.m. It’s now 5 a.m. I’ve been crying since I woke up.

I don’t want a new therapist, it will take so long to build trust with someone new. I don’t do new people, that’s a part of My illness. What’s worse is My therapist is LITERALLY all I have. I came home and suffered alone in silence with My tears because there is NOT ONE person in My life I could call, depend on, trust enough to talk to. I am utterly alone. I don’t have ANY friends. I looked at My phone, there was not one person I could pick up the phone and talk to.

Acquaintances will say “oh you could call Me” but who the fuck talks to an acquaintance about real shit. If I have to catch you up on a 45-minute backstory before you could understand the problem, it’s not worth it. Real friends know the key players and situations in your life. I don’t have that.

I’ll get a new therapist eventually, maybe in the spring. I’m in no rush to try to tell My life story to a stranger or deal with a therapist who doesn’t have any training on My illnesses after having some a productive therapist/patient relationship.

God literally took everything. I gave up My job, lost My best friend, lost My therapist, My son is damn near a lost cause. I have no control over life right now and I don’t even care. The good thing is I have no one and no one depends on Me. I can lie in this bed for a day, a week or a year and no one will even notice. If I had any real strength, I’d put Myself out of My misery. No matter how much I wish I could die I can’t hurt Myself. I’m a glutton for punishment I guess. I hate My life.