. . .

I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really for music, do ya?
It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth,
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing hallelujah . . .


I had an appointment with my psychologist today. My. New. Psychologist. Named Yvonne. Well. She's persistent, I'll give her that. She's currently "getting to know me", apparently, which I really don't see the point of. I mean, what's the point of getting to know someone who's life goal is to successfully kill themselves? Seems like a pointless exercise to me.

They're still banging on about DBT, which I just don't want to do. It involves diary cards and groups, two things I dislike. The topic of keeping some sort of diary, or mood journal, or diary card came up again today. I refused. I just don't want to do it. I don't see the point. If ten years of on and off therapy and medication has done nothing for the situation, then DBT is unlikely to do anything for the situation either. Although Melodie almost had me to the point of doing it. But that's by the by now, because I went into hospital when it was supposed to start, and also, Melodie doesn't work with me any more due to the change in teams.

I have court next Wednesday morning to answer the charge of Unlawfully takes Motor Vehicle. I have to remember to book the bus ticket tomorrow as it's in a different city, one about 4 hours away by bus. (Or two and half in Mum's car. Or two hours in car. God I miss my car.) I will be entering no plea. The court can decide, I can't be bothered trying to explain or anything like that.
Pending the outcome, I'm either going to go back to work and ask WINZ for help moving out, or go to prison lol. The maximum penalty is 5 years imprisonment. Or I might just end up being sent to the Mason Clinic. People keep muttering about the Mason Clinic, after I had that second opinion guy talk to me in February they mentioned something about possible intervention from the Mason Clinic, then after that incident last time I was in hospital, apparently I was supposed to be interviewed by the Mason Clinic, but that never happened.

My new crisis management plan advises people not to use the Mental Health Act. Or respite. Or hospital. Which will be an absolutely fabulous management plan - as soon as I get my own place. I mean, I hate living at my Mum's house, I'd actually rather stay in hospital. Not an option.
So I'm planning to move out soon-ish. My WorkWise lady has sent my C.V. to a new devanning company so hopefully I'll hear from them and hopefully the fact that some bitch of a psychiatrist revoked my license won't matter. Because I'm a freaking awesome devanner.

I haven't heard from Owen for a while but I think that's because Christmas etc. is over now so he won't be getting many containers in, just his usual stock, meaning he'll probably only need me once every couple of months until summer. Apparently he's still happy to have me employed, which is good. Rowena is also still (so far as I know) happy to have me employed, although I haven't been for a while. Again, pending outcome of court. If there are no prohibitive conditions then I'll be returning to coaching for term 2, or at least as much as possible, because it's competition season now.

I've looked at properties in Taupo. If worst comes to worst, I'm relocating me and my cat. Taupo's a bit colder, but it has the lake, and less people, and it's so much cheaper - so much so that I could probably live on a benefit comfortably, imagine that.

Well.
I'm still frustrated that I have to see so much of my new psychologist. But I can't really do anything about that. At least, as far as I know I can't do anything about it. I might lie and say I'm going on holiday, just to get out of a couple of weeks worth. I'm over this "therapy" thing. It has nothing new to offer me.