I’m in my pyjamas, but just as I was getting into bed, I suddenly remembered the source of all the current changes in my life, the ones I’m trying to bring about and stick to. This diary has helped me to reflect and remember; until now I’ve never had a clear sense of the events leading up to the current situation with Chl, let alone the ways I was responsible for what happened. It only became clear when I wrote the whole story down (so slowly, and so painfully). And I realised that my computer addiction and other unhelpful behaviour patterns were a way of expressing my sense of abandonment. On the one hand, yes, I was trying to run away from my pain; but on the other, crucially, I was pushing things to extremes because I wanted someone to set me limits. I realised I was behaving the way badly adjusted children do, children whose parents don’t know how to set them limits, or don’t want to, or have no interest in doing so. They push things further and further, and every step is a cry for attention. Then I said to myself: as long as my transgressions only affect me, nobody’s going to set me any limits. Not only was my behaviour inappropriate, but it was useless at what it was trying to achieve; my actions were doomed to failure in every sense. The hole I was digging was becoming deeper and deeper, and by then it was almost impossible to get out. In the end I decided that if a part of me was demanding limits, I’d try to set some myself; I’d listen to my demands insofar as they were reasonable and fair, but fight energetically to stop them escalating into that nebulous infinity. Limits. Strict, precise. But necessary.