Under the Bridge

So I was recently told by a former addict that my mental illness is an excuse and a way to avoid accountability. Hmmm. Oh yeah, that’s it. Because symptoms of a disease that primarily affect my personal thoughts and actions are so much fun to experience that I just keep doing it.

I hate to say that trolls are stupid but this one is a new variety of stupid. I’ve been writing about anxiety online for over a decade and people still act like I don’t know what in the hell I’m talking about. It never ceases to amaze. But instead of letting it continue to hurt my feelings, I soldier on.

Another group I was in, a depression group, had a member pass. I couldn’t take it anymore and I pulled the plug on that group. It was too sad. People’s experiences are vastly different and I found that this particular group was causing more depression and anxiety than it was alleviating. So yeah, there goes any hope I had of being in an effective online support group. Besides the one with my close friends in it of course. That one has been more valuable to me than anything and helped me through so much.

So that’s where I’m at. Moving is incredibly stressful no matter the circumstances. Very happy to be moving in with a sweet and supportive boyfriend yet very sad to be leaving my little abode here in the foothills. The more I purge things and pack the more upset I seem to get. But on to bigger and better things. It will be a good step for our relationship as we celebrate our one year anniversary two days beforehand. I have my doubts still but they are good doubts and the ones that I always had.

What is my main doubt about my relationship? He is too damn nice for me. What a conundrum. Too incredibly empathetic and supportive and I feel so incredibly lucky. Cannot express my gratefulness truly. And I catch myself being snarky sometimes with him and I just need to watch the cynicism. Lol. Tone it down, lady.

And my daughter and my fellow get along great which is totally ideal and awesome. Especially since she is at an age where she is getting more withdrawn and getting away from being a mamma’s girl. She doesn’t hate me, yet. But she is a teen and I suspect that’s coming.

Oh dear. I really have it good. I should go back to bed so I continue to have a good day despite others doing their best to troll me. Comparison can truly be the thief of joy. Would I like to be normal? Well hell yes, for some reason I strive to be. But it’s more interesting to be true to who I am despite the obvious drawbacks.

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