My husband and I have been fighting. (Money. Sex. Rock and Roll. nbsp; You know. Marriage things.) My son came in yesterday, crying, asking us to stop fighting. My husband tried to tell him we weren't fighting - just talking loud (which was bullsh*t and made me mad, because I felt he wasn't respecting my son's feelings or intelligence.)
It doesn't matter does it? It doesn't matter if you have cancer or heart disease or diabetes, or mental illness.
It doesn't matter, your entire family and many of your friends get caught in the middle and its as if all the fears and frustrations of your illness are like shards of glass, being shot from the bow of some anti-cupid who lives inside of you. Shards of glass, headed right for the hearts of those you love so much.
It's so scary. I'm so scared to lose anyone. I am so scared to keep hurting people. I wept at the doctor's office yesterday. He said this was good news.
Sometimes I hate my psychiatrist.
He said I was feeling this grief, because I was coming back to myself.
He didn't have a magic pill.
Sometimes I have dreams that I can skate so far and so fast, it is as if I am flying.
Sometimes, I wish I had a river I could skate away on.