I’d like to have the contents of this chapter sound as bright and hopeful as its title.
But I’m damaged. I’m exhausted. I’m heartbroken.
I’m back to feeling that indescribable thirst for methamphetamine I haven’t experienced in years, and this time I’m feeling it while simultaneously wondering how exactly—and how so suddenly—my entire life got flipped upside down.
I’m out of the city and back in BFE (Bum-F**** Egypt/whocaresland) and everything I thought life was going to be suddenly vanished. The man I thought cared for me the most in this world caused me the most traumatic and painful hardship I’ve ever experienced in my life. I am changed. I am on a larger daily cocktail of medications than I ever have been before. I’m not sure how many of my dopamine receptors I have remaining. I get paid handsomely but work from home so I’m alone a lot. I still owe the Loony Bin over $5,000. I still grieve over the loss of Him—at least, the He he used to be. I still don’t know where he went and I never got to say goodbye. I don’t know exactly how I’m supposed to love or trust again.
Nobody understands quite what it is I’ve been through.
But what is next?
I have no idea, but my therapist says I’m ready for “Phase 2” which is less crisis-mode where we put out fires, and really dig into my psyche.
I’m getting back into art.