This is what my arm looks like today. It is still very tender to touch but I can move it. Some people can insert the needle and you can't tell where. But most of the time this is the results. The smaller bruise is from her first needle insertion. When I went back for her to draw blood the second time, I asked her to use my left arm. She just went lower on the same arm and as soon as she inserted the needle and I felt pain I knew from experience what had happened. She apologized but the damage had been done.

The privets are in bloom and my allergies are acting up. More pills to take; I wonder how much space is left in my stomach after all the pills. Maybe that is why I can't eat much. After a few bites, I am full. I have tried eating and then taking the pills, but I still don't have an appetite. I think I want something, but after I taste it, I don't want it; I can't eat it.

I haven't had much interest in food; the eating or the cooking of food. I have to really force myself to make the bread I sell. Some days I have even let that go undone. Then I get mad and disgusted with myself. When I allow this to happen, I have to pull myself back out of the pit; using the new self-talk therapy that the psychologist has taught me. Nine times out of ten it doesn't help.

The psychologist doesn't like it that I still am not getting out of the house more. Or rather that I don't go places. She keeps asking me, "are you a child or an adult?" In a sense of the word, I feel I am very much a child. What I was taught as a child is a big part of me. I can not be assertive, I can not say no, I can not do the things I want to do without feeling guilty, I am lost and the psychologist is not helping me. I tell her how I feel about things and she politely tells me that is the wrong way to feel and tells me how I should be feeling.

Okay, I don't have a knob that I can turn and adjust my feelings automatically. Each thursday she asks me what have I done for fun during the week. Each thursday I tell her I haven't done anything. She reminds me that I am the only one who can help myself. So, if I am the only one who can help myself; why do I have to keep going to her? Everything she has told me I had already figured out on my own except the "disrespectful" part. She has become just another person in my life asking me what I want and when I tell her she says no you don't want that, you want something else.