Around this time last year, I was sitting down with a lady for a brief psych assessment, to figure out whether not I needed a full one. I was really nervous. I wasn’t sure what to expect. Part of me was worried she was going to tell me I was indeed crazy and everything that’s happened with me was all my fault. When she asked me why I was here, all I could do was point to the section of the paper I filled out: “I tried to kill myself recently”.
I read about the body of the former Glee cast being found after five days of searching. It made me think of a guy I grew up with. I hadn’t thought about him in a long, long time.
It's taken me a while to come to terms with this is how it is. Unfortunately, I was used this way by some of the people I developed trust with, who I thought kept me safe.
I’m reading a book right now that a lovely friend of mine sent me. I’ve only just started because I haven’t been able to put time into reading it.
Life hasn't really been normal for me in a while. Since last summer, I've been living under a rock recovering from a near fatal breakdown. I switched from general therapy to a therapist who specialized in childhood trauma. Up until about January of this year, there was this eating feel of hopelessness. By the end of it, things started to feel less bleak. It could have been the Zoloft kicking in.