15 years
…of isolating myself. I am still struggling to understand what happened. I don’t want to accept what I have become and all the time I have lost.
Before ‘it’ happened, I was okay. I had routines, hobbies, a career, a social life, a sense of self.
I am surviving. I am proud of that, but I once thrived. I have this tenacious, almost delusional sense of hope that maybe THIS time, this week, this year, this way— I am going to ‘get it right.’ As if one day, if I keep trying to make 1% deviations of change, I will wake up and find myself content with my trajectory.
I dream about being in college again and a sense of relief washes over me. “I did it. I am doing it.”
This is my first post, feel free to reply. I used the journaling tag because I intend to continue writing on this thread.