So let's take a moment to talk about alcohol. Being smashed. Getting wellied. And what a more appropriate time to do it than when I'm still intoxicated at 8:07 AM, from the night before.
I moved out of my family home at 18-years-old. I was not kicked out, but circumstances within the home became very difficult, to the point that I found that it was an impossible place to live. To do so, would mean that I would go backwards rather than forwards in recovering from depression and mental illness. It was a painful and disappointing endeavor, but one I am glad I made. It had seemed impossible, I didn't know where to begin and I needed to move quickly.