Yeah, having BPD and no insurance is fun - you take your therapy where you can get it. My landlord's shifty uncle agreed to do it for 3 black candles, four chickens, and a Dave and Buster's gift certificate. He's not licensed to practice therapy, but is a master of the black arts, and his Diabolical Behavior Therapy has made me more mindful of my judgmental attitudes. He stresses that you Observe that people are selfish asses, Describe how they are really pissing you off, and Participate by loudly exclaiming it in people's faces. We haven't gotten to distress tolerance yet, but apparently it involves 30 yards of nylon rope and a goat. Who says we need universal coverage?

***applause*** ***applause****