Everything is going to be OK. Then again, OK doesn’t mean anything.
The diagnosis, while not changing me as a person, helped me to understand myself better. It helped me to treat myself better.
I keep picturing Kindergarten Cop only Arnold is screaming, “It’s not the virus!”
It was as if everything we have ever loved, hated, or known was taken away.
There was no way I was having a heart attack. Right? I didn’t have heart attacks. Other people did.
It’s not the same. It isn’t real.
I don’t let them turn me into the same people who hurt me. I never will.
People like that love company.
Sometimes my posts betray me. I snitch on myself, as the kids say.
Without them, I would wallow in my own mind during times when my own mind is the most dangerous place to wallow in.