I walked into my apartment, cold air rushing against my face, the smell of dogs and marijuana filled the air, slightly masked by incense, oils and soy candles. My roommates weren’t home, but their auras were ever present. Through the living room, into the connected kitchen. Remembering it now, it seems as though I floated right in rather than taking physical steps. I’m not sure what was going through my head by this point, it was definitely something to do with an official diagnosis of endometriosis, with a stamp on my life, a disease I was told for 12 years I didn’t have, that my symptoms were “normal." The determining factor of my entire future placed into my lap at 25 years old.