I spent the first days of my life as an adoptee. At the time my mom was alone, and made to feel like less of human because she got knocked up out of wedlock. What other option did she have? My life started in chaos and I have since saturated my mind with a negative introspective. I bury the bad and soldier on with what sense I can make of my calloused brain.
I have done this for years. Looking back I see it, like a movie reel on rewind the images of me constantly suppressing emotions. I mean I smiled as I greeted the guest for my daughters funeral. I smiled and then invited everyone over for food and fellowship after her funeral, as if it were a celebration of some sort.
Eventually the wolves turned up at my door. The bill came due and those mofo’s surrounded my house until I had no where to run. [insert emotional breakdown with a dose of suicidal ideation]
Here I am today, two months after being tossed into the psych ward, so terribly broken but somehow equally hopeful. I am so thankful that my emotions and my thoughts didn’t fulfill their promise and I listened to another shallow voice.
“It doesn’t last forever, and you can better”