It's good to be gentle with oneself, but sometimes when you're being tossed around by life all you can do is white-knuckle the sides of your seat, clench your eyes shut, and scream, "THIS TOO SHALL MOTHERFUCKING PASS!".
And it does.
My neurofeedback therapist called back today and, praise the baby jeezus, she has an opening AND she takes my insurance for the talk-time (not the NF) AND she's now located literally around the corner from me so I could even ride my bike there. I'm scheduled for my first session next Tuesday.
I also found a therapist for Kyd, though I don't know yet if Kyd will be amenable. I think if I can get his body in front of this guy for even one session, good things will happen. I can't control it, but I can encourage it can't I? Said therapist does NOT take our insurance, but he's the first person I've spoken to in a decade that seemed to immediately understand the problems and didn't talk over me. Terms like "personality disorders" and "depression" and "bipolar" were bandied about, so he gets the severity after only 20 minutes of talk, but at the same time he's not interested in diagnoses unless it's absolutely evident, nor in excavating the past. He meets the patient where they are now, where they want to go, and helps them get there through traditional and alternative therapies including outdoor work. I hope I judged him accurately because he seems to be the right blend of experience, traditional, and alternative without any of that sickly saccharine after-taste that too many people in the helping professions leave me with.
Kyd was given 30 days before a hearing, and if he can pull it together and get a job before then I think he'll be ok with the court.
So Universe, Higher Power, Luck, whoever you are (and do I need to name you yet?), we made it through the recent storm together and no casualties have been reported.