Ah, childhood. Nostalgia goes along with it, no? Well, no. At least not for me.
I grew up in a school where, for whatever reason, I was picked on mercilessly. The more they picked on me, the more I cried; the more I cried, the more they picked on me. Naturally, I blamed myself.
In high school, I sought therapy, which helped some, but I was also getting accustomed to my RND and bipolar disorder, so the focus of my therapy sessions was not usually on my childhood. When I started collegel last fall, I wanted to believe that all I needed was time, space, and friendships in order to heal. I was wrong.
So here I am, six years out of that awful school, and beginning therapy again. And oh, is it painful.
Starting therapy again has undone me. I am turning back into a traumatized child. Each day is a balance of feeling my feelings, comforting myself, and distracting myself from my feelings. Each day is one day closer to my next therapy appointment.
As I mentioned in my post "Currently..." I am damaged, but not conquered. I can rise again. I will rise again.
Watch out, world.
"Don't tell God how big your storm is; tell your storm how big your God is."
I believe in God.
I believe in God.
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- I am a bipolar, Jewish young adult (had my Hebrew birthday, the one I count, and turned 23 this past January) who also suffers from Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy. I love life and I live for my best friends: they are my purpose and my reason for trying so hard. I remain passionately devoted to those I love; I will not let my disorders make me totally self-centered. I like to read, write, and sew. My Rabbinical school plans did not work out, and I am now hoping to go into the field of Early Childhood Education. Please note: I am currently maintaining only Carried in His Hands. Enjoy!