Write My Way Out

More than two decades into adulthood I’m struggling with balance and self compassion and regret and future-making. I’m about halfway through this game of life and I want to throw out all the rules. Worst of all, I’m resentful of the very real reasons I can never do that.

It isn’t that I don’t like my life or the people in it. It’s deeper than that. There’s something primal inside me that has been ignored and suppressed and pushed aside. And I think it’s me.

I’m in the messy middle and it’s going to get messier before I am out of it. I don’t know what the end looks like. I don’t know what casualties will come along the way. But if I don’t do something this envy and rage will consume me.

I hardly even know where to begin. As a planner it’s hard to step out with no idea of the goal, the end result, or anything. But I have faith that as I organize my thoughts and take some steps I’ll be able to figure it out.

So while this blog has been a great many things over the years, right now it’s going to be my own personal therapy. (Have I shared my “I Have A Dream” speech here? It’s short. I’ll add it below:)

I have a dream, that one day not only will we as a society provide health coverage for all, but that we will consider the brain to be a part of the body like every other body part. Just as we receive annual check ups for our bodies and our eyes, and semi-annual check ups for our teeth, we will likewise have regular mental health checkups. This will normalize talking to people about what’s going on in our lives, reduce the stigma of mental illness, and provide a greater number of people access to coping mechanisms and an outside perspective. Not to mention the societal benefits of healthier, happier people.

Until then, I have to resort to getting my therapy from social media. And doing it myself, as in this ongoing writing project of mine.

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