It's been almost a week since I came back to life. Spiritually speaking. And emotionally. And probably even a bit physically. I was hanging by a thread there, folks. To put it mildly, I was an absolute mess. A shell of a girl! Not even a girl, but a zombie! A zombie shell on the lookout for blood! Wait, so wouldn't that make me a vampire? I do not desire human flesh, just decent human blood cells. So I guess that would just make me anemic. Anyway! Life! I'm back!
But I still struggle. Immensely. I naively thought, "Gee whiz! This painfully long and entirely surreal emergency room visit just cured my eating disorder! And my addiction to prescription stimulants! And every other malady! Right on, radical, hang loose, spread those wings, cross those legs, cut your hair, get a job!" Turns out it's not that simple. It's not that easy. It is, in fact, the hardest thing you'll ever have to do -- "it" being recovery, "it" being surviving, "it" being giving yourself a chance over and over and over again, no matter how many times you fall and fail and forget you're worth it. Cuz guess what, babydolls? You're all worth it. And I'm all worth it. And I have been all along. And all it took was me nearly losing my life/soul to figure this out. That's all.
I am too PUMPED UP to continue sitting here and writing! Life has opened up again and I actually have interests and things I want to hear and read and learn and do. It is, frankly, quite bizarre! And quite beautiful. And I need to quit beginning so many of my sentences with "and." And I'll deal with that later. Right now I want to deal with a deck, specifically my deck. By "deal" I mean sit on it and soak in the sun while I thank my lucky stars I'm still around.