An exploded life…

I have had, admittedly, too much free time because of this stupid pandemic.

It’s giving me time to reflect.

Generally, I don’t think that’s very good for me.

What I’ve realized is that I spent a little over ten years blowing up my life.

I was in and out of the hospital something like 13 or 14 times just for psychiatric stuff.

I was crazy.

I probably was on the edge of a personality disorder diagnosis and people just thought it would hurt me more than help me with the way that I was.

It would have.

I look back and think I don’t know what I was doing.

Who wants to go to the psych hospital? Seriously.

I mean, it’s not the worst place, but I can think of about 20 places right now I’d rather be.

I just can’t believe I wasted so much time. And traumatized myself so much. That’s really the big one. I traumatized myself. So now I have to dig out.

I don’t even know. I mean, THANK GOD the right people got put in my path and helped me break that cycle. I would have ended up in the state hospital as a permanent resident or in an adult foster care.

I just need to pray that I can get out of this hole the rest of the way and back to myself. The 12 year old me. Smart, capable and ready to take on the world with no fear.

I’d be happy to get most of the way back to that version of me anyway.

Maybe by the time I’m 50?

This recovery thing is hard. When people say it’s not linear, they’re right. It’s not.

I guess I need to stop focusing on what I’ve lost and focus on what I can recover.

Image from Pexels.

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