When I first seen the movie "Titanic", I was on a leave from treatment for Christmas and my mom, sister, and her soon to be husband went to it the day it opened, December 25th 1997. After 5 months of treatment trying to help me 'get right' and re-realize the beauty in life, I truly had hope for the feeling this movie portrayed being part of my life.

"You're here, there's nothing to fear, and I know that my heart will go on. We'll stay forever this way. You are safe in my heart, and my heart will go on and on."

That is how I want so badly to feel now.

I did a substance abuse assessment today, that went okay overall (the uppity atmosphere and the assessor claiming he could smell alcohol on me even though I haven't drank in 3 days didn't help), but my heart sank worse when my therapist basically told me afterwords that I might have some form of multiple personality disorder.

I need to focus on the former before I can even think of THINKING ABOUT the latter, but I have 13 fucking days of analyzing to do it in (today's date until the day of my intake into the intensive outpatient program).

I slept an hr and a half last night, anxiety ridden worried about the assessment, got through that, told I was possibly even more fucked up then I thought, and now I have 13 days to process it all before substantial help.

I don't say this often but I'm opting for Celine Dion.