I cancelled the lithotripsy I was supposed to have.

I couldn't stand the thought of the needle for the spinal injection and it was causing us to sleep about 3 hours a night and to switch out repeatedly trying to find someone inside who could handle the massive amount of terror. Then after it was cancelled, I had to deal with Jenny (who is apparently still 10) wanting to draw...and as usual, her picture was all sharp angles and points and dangerous things and nuclear missles. But she was able to communicate that she was afraid that the doctors would be angry with us for cancelling the surgery..and one thing we've never been able to handle (with the exception of Celeste, at least) is having someone be angry with or unhappy with us or something we've done. We'd rather do nothing, than be criticized. Criticism or even the anticipation of criticism or anger always leads to cutting. I'm proud of myself though, we didn't cut this time although the urge was very, very strong. Cutting is usually the only way that Jenny can disappear back inside, because she doesn't feel that type of physical pain when she does it, and she cuts until it does hurt...then whoever is left in front at that point cleans up, takes care of things, and deals with the inner devastation that we feel afterward, and shame, and depression. My doctor feels my meds are working properly, and perhaps they are, I'm not so sure of that since I'm becoming more and more limited in what I can do as the days pass...but I'm in no active therapy at all right now and I wish more than anything that I could find a therapist that would deal with me who is experienced with DID/MPD and that I could afford on disability. I need it badly and want it badly but my doctor discontinued the therapy that we were doing and never explained why even though I've mentioned it, and I gave up rather than push her. I checked into therapists locally and the nearest one I've been able to find is about 90 minutes away--which seems like a thousand miles to someone who can Barely drive 2 miles to the store and that's only on VERY good days, which are rare and becoming more rare. So I do what I can by letting us draw and things like that. But I'm feeling more and more like a freak and feeling more and more anger than ever and that's not ok with me. I'm NOT allowed to feel anger, never have been, never should be. I tried to tell my doctor that I'm going to explode but she doesn't seem to believe me and I've told her before, several times, that #1, I do not lie to her, and #2, the most frustrating part of DID is not being believed. I think a lot of it is that her time at that clinic is up in about 6 more months and she felt a need to stop working on it. But why not just TELL me? I would have dealt with it better had there been honesty.