This story begins with me holding a grown-up’s hand.
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.
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.
My life sometimes feels like a rollercoaster. I rise to peaks and fall to valleys.
People like that love company.
Sometimes my posts betray me. I snitch on myself, as the kids say.
I can’t just lay in bed all day. I have kids and responsibilities. Even if I didn’t, I still can’t stay in bed all day.