I went to therapy, the first time since last school year. A new therapist, but a friend of my old one so it's ok. They both have said that I seem bright. They both had met me with a hint of puzzlement, hidden but I could see. Prodding me, trying to figure out why I was there.

I don't have relationship problems. My family isn't scarred by addictions (I doubt my mother's furniture hoarding counts, comparatively). I was never raped, thank the gods, and I live in a town that is clean-cut and poised to nurture a bright little girl.

But I cut, and problem drink, and restrict and occasionally purge. I write in a blog within an Ana Community. I too often crashcrashcrash, and I wonder how anyone could survive without these things I cherish.

Yes, I was trapped in a manipulative friendship for years, but that's more than twelve months into the past. Now my life is perfectly normal--or simply "perfect." I doubt it could get any better, putting regrets aside. I am ontherighttrack, with everything to gain and nothing to lose.
So what's wrong with me?

"I always like to ask my patients what they want to change in their life with DBT. What do you want to change?"
Nothing. This is perfection. This is as stable as it gets.
"I don't know."