disability
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In therapy on Monday, I said to my therapist, “I’m done! I’m done.” And that was immediately followed by the expression, “I don’t even know what that means, because I am not going to kill myself, so I don’t know what I am done with, per se, or what I am quitting, exactly.” I’m relatively
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I’m not certain if control issues were inherited or ingrained, but my mother was the pinnacle of having things in order, and bits of her need to control all the things all the time were handed down to me, and I handed bits down to my daughter. It isn’t always a bad thing to want
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I feel like shit. I could probably end there, and just let that be my post for the day. But I keep putting “write” on the schedule that I don’t follow. I’d kind of like to cross that off my list. So, I feel like shit. And that isn’t a new thing at all. Which