It's been a long time...

I wish I would have kept up on this. I wish I would have kept writing. Anyone that would view the last two years of my life based on this would think I live a pretty meager existence. Does Jenn still exist? Where has she been? Has her life been so uneventful that it's simply not worth writing about?

The truth of the matter is that I've lost the motivation. The last two years have been the most dramatic of my life. The most wonderful and the most horrific. I wish I would have taken the time to document. I wish I would have taken the time to share. But here I am now, wondering where to begin...

Do I start at the beginning and work my way forward? That seems to make the most sense, but there is so much to write about that I fear I would leave out things I would later regret, either that or get frustrated with how long it took to write it all out and simply give up again.

Maybe it doesn't matter...since I'm simply writing for myself as a way to get it all out. Lord knows I can't talk to the one person I need to about all of these things... I have so much hurt, anger, and resentment built up that I think I'll explode if I can't find some way to express it somehow.

Crazy, crazy for feeling so lonely…..

Right now I feel betrayed, hurt, and hopeless.

On Monday I made an appointment with a new doctor to help me get my emotions under control and my medications back on track. I was told my appointment would be today at 8:30 AM, and to print the new patient paperwork off of their website because they may not be able to mail them to me in time for my appointment. I got up and hour and a half early and made it into Spokane 15 minutes before my appointment. I walked up to the reception desk and was told that my appointment was for November 6 at 8:30, not today. I think she could tell how upset I was by this because she was able to find me an earlier appointment – a week from today. So I took my appointment card and headed for the elevator, holding back the tears. When I got down to the lobby I called my supervisor to see if I could come into work early, other wise I was just going to sit in my car and cry for an hour. I got in my car, took a “chill out pill” and tried to rationalize my feelings. I know that it was a clerical mistake, and not intentionally done to hurt or cause me harm. But the idea of going another week felling the way I do makes me want to melt into a sticky pile of Jenn on the floor that someone else is going to have to come along and clean up. “Ewe… what did I just step in?” “Oh, that’s just Jenn – she dissolved a little while ago, maybe we should grab the squeegee so she can finish disintegrating without anyone else stepping in her…”

I hate the fact that I need medication to make me feel normal. I hate that I’ll probably have to be on these medications for the rest of my life. I look at all the “normal” people that seem to get by everyday, to smile often, they appear happy, and I wonder how they do it. I wonder what the hell is so wrong with me that I can’t appreciate all of the wonderful things that I have in my life. I have a loving family, a wonderful boyfriend, a good job, a roof over my head, my fuzzy children, a warm bed to sleep in, I live in one of the most beautiful places that I’ve ever seen, I have supportive friends… so why am I so miserable? Why do I break down and cry for no reason at all? Then why do I turn abound and get so angry that I’m ready to throw things? Why do I push myself away from everyone I care about so that they don’t have to deal with me when I’m like this? Why can’t I allow myself to trust those around me that I know in my heart would be there and help support me through this?

I know one of my many flaws is that I’m an isolationist. I don’t want to burden others with my feelings or my needs. Also, I’m afraid to lean too hard on someone, I’ve had so many people walk away and leave me crumpled on the floor. It’s hard for me to trust that people will love me and accept me regardless, and be there when I reach out. But I’m learning to trust… hopefully the first person I’ll start with is myself.

Crying

Sometimes it hits me, right out of the blue, that I'm not the person that I thought I was. I'm not the independant woman that is OK doing everything by herself. I'm not the one that is perfectly content with her feline compamionship. I'm the woman that is sitting here in tears because my heart is hurting. I'm the one that has finally let someone get so close that I can't imagine continuing to live the life that I have known for so very long...

The time has finally come...

Christopher got his smiley face last week. In prison terms this means he was given his exact date and time of his release. He will walk out of those gate at 8am on 3/17/2008; a free man. And I, along with his parents will be there to greet him. I dread the drive, especially after what happened the last time I went up to see him, but it feels like we've been waiting for this day forever, and there isn't the slightest chance that I'll miss it. I know that our relationship has been confusing to some, and I appreciate all of your concerns. It has been difficult to explain the situation, especially since it hasn't really begun yet. Once we have time to get to know each other in person, in the real world, I'll better be able to tell our story. But for now, know that I am happy, for the first time in my life I finally feel like everything I've been waiting for is within my grasp.

I needed something really BIG to cheer me up…

I made a decision last night to put the money that Grandma had sent me to a different use. As she put it, she had some extra money, and wanted me to have it. She suggested that I get some needed work done on my care… but the more I thought about it, the more that sounded like something I didn’t want to do. I put in savings until I either decided what I was going to do with it, or needed it.

Earlier this week I got a call for my mortgage company; they are offering to refinance both my first and second mortgages, which will signifcantly lower my payment. Because of this, and just to help save my sanity, I have a maid service coming Tuesday afternoon to get my condo ready for the appraisal. Lately I’ve been overwhelmed with the simplest of chores, and I was thinking of doing this just to help save my sanity, but now I have a legitimate reason to spend the money (it’s actually very reasonable…).

Now, on to the point of this story… I traded in my car & got the one I’ve been dreaming about for years!!! I used Grandma’s money as the down payment, and drove it off the lot this morning before work.

She’s a 2007 Subaru Outback, green with gray side molding, tan and black interior. She has approximately 18000 miles on her, still has the manufacturers warranty. She fully loaded: Power door locks, power windows, alloy wheels, trip odometer,
air conditioning, tilt steering wheel, cruise control, rear defroster, console, body side moldings, center arm rest, power driver's seat, CD player, AM/FM radio, bucket seats, anti-lock brakes, power mirrors, spoiler, roof luggage rack, heated seats, rear wiper, cloth seats, digital dash, 5 passenger seating, warranty,
rear shoulder harness, fog/driving lamps, lumbar support, split fold-down seat, manual shift mode (yes, I did cut & paste that from the dealer website). Besides what they have advertised, it has heated side mirrors and windshield, inside/outside thermometer (digital display on dash), MP3 hook-up, duel climate control, and a whole lot more that I can’t think of right now.

I know what you’re thinking, you’re concerned about my financial status, but I’d like to put this in perspective for you. To give you an idea of my state of mind lately… I was sitting in the dealership this morning and Lee called me, he wanted to check and see how everything was, and let me know that he was calling because one of my friends had left him a message stating that she was afraid I was going to hurt myself. She had gotten this impression because I of the state I was in yesterday, and the fact that I kind of said I don’t want to live anymore. Let me assure you, I would never hurt myself, I have told you this many, many times before, and I promise you this is the truth. But I have been at a very low point recently, I’m very lonely, and I miss you soooo much.

My decision to trade in my car for something I truly wanted, and really is a good investment, was partially driven by the need DO SOMETHING that would make a major impact on my emotional state. So please support me in my decision, and be happy for me, because I haven’t felt this good in a long time.

Freaking out!!!

Earlier today I tried calling Grandma, but I only got her answering machine. I left a message that I was calling to check what the doctor had said, and if she was going to have her surgery...

Tonight I checked my home email (which I've only been doing about once a week) and found the following message from my aunt:

Jennifer I'm so sorry to have left you off the previous emails. This was yesterday:
I got a call this morning, 12/12/2007, around 6:30 am from St. Mary's ER. Mom called 911 with shortness of breath and throwing up blood. In the ER they put a tube down her nose into her stomach to drain out the blood, then moved her up to a step down ICU where she was scoped at noon. The doctor said she had an ulcer in her stomach and one in her small intestine. They were already healing and he has put her on meds to help them heal. She will be in the hospital overnight, released probably tomorrow evening. The doctor said it was probably due to ibuprofen. I have been rescheduling her pre-op appts, since they were for tomorrow, and with luck she will still have back surgery on the 18th. Not a real major thing, and so far, knock on wood, none of the doctor think it will keep her from the surgery. Her saw her doctor yesterday(Jerry took her) and he said she was fine to have the surgery. Anyway, will keep you posted.
Love, Becky

The next read:
Well, she will remain in the hospital tonight, and the surgery on the 18th has been canceled. Dr. Clifford, back guy, wants her to be healed and blood back to normal before he operates, after the first of the year. She is being keep today and tonight because her blood count is low. I was over at her house and listened to the messages, here are some phone numbers:
Becky..970-***-**** (deleted to maitain my family's privacy)
Deborah...970-***-****
Jerry Bob...505-***-***, cell 505-***-****
St. Mary's Hospital...970-***-****, room ***
She is doing very well, but ready to come home. Do not know what they will give her for the back pain. There is nothing anyone can do at this point and really nothing when she comes home. Just hope she is not a "BEAR" until the surgery. Will let you know if anything comes up or changes. Love, Becky

The last message was a new phone number to call grandma at the hospital...

So of course now I'm really freaking out. I'm feeling guilty because I didn't call earlier in the week. I'm wondering if I need to drive out there tomorrow. I feel like a terrible granddaughter because I haven't been very attentive to her lately due to my own issues that I'm currently dealing with. Here comes the guilt again...

I just spoke with both of my uncles - they both say she is doing fine & there really isn't any need to come out. She's supose to be home tomorrow, so I will call & see if she needs me...

God I hate being out here on my own & out of the loop!

Because I couldn't say it on the phone

By Heather B Armstrong
www.dooce.com
Thursday, December 13 2007
I was recently at lunch with a few friends, one who had just been diagnosed with OCD that manifests itself in a need to straighten up everything around her, and I was all really? That's considered OCD? Because I thought that was just considered BEING ALIVE. And because she hasn't ever read this website she asked if I had ever been treated for a diagnosis abbreviated with capital letters. I looked across the table at my other friend, someone who is very familiar with what I have written here, and she almost gagged on an ice cube. I nodded and then explained that I'm in ongoing therapy for what's called C-R-A-Z-Y.

I feel like I need to say something today, right now, about my feelings toward therapy and medication, because in the last couple of months I've watched several people around me suffer needlessly because they were either too afraid or too arrogant to take care of their mental health. And I guess I'm trying to understand why anyone would resist trying to work through an issue that is making their life miserable, and that maybe if I came out and talked about what I have been through and how I feel about what I've been through, that someone may feel a little less embarrassed about getting help.

I suffer from chronic anxiety and depression, and I believe it started manifesting itself when I was in high school, maybe earlier. I didn't seek treatment, however, until my sophomore year in college when I was on the brink of dropping out, when I finally called my father and exposed a very dark side of me, explained that I did not have the ability to cope no matter how hard I prayed or tried to get over it. My mother had always sensed this about me, had watched bi-polar disorder wreck the lives of several of her brothers and sisters, and she had to convince my father to take this seriously. A week later I saw a therapist who prescribed Zoloft. That medication changed my life, lifted a dark cloud that had been tormenting me for years, and I stayed on that drug, healthy and happy and able to cope, up until Jon and I decided that we should try to get pregnant.

I never should have gone off that drug. I know this now, having suffered terrible postpartum depression that could have been avoided had I seen the red flags in my third trimester, had I taken early steps to deal with the symptoms. But three months after Leta's birth I was an inconsolable, suicidal mess. I was beyond repair, and all the drugs I tried in the following months would only make things worse: Risperdal, Ativan, Trazadone, Lamictal, Effexor, Abilify, Strattera, Klonopin, Seroquel. I couldn't sleep, couldn't unclench my jaw or hands, couldn't imagine how I would get through another ten minutes. After weeks of threatening to leave Jon if he had me committed to a hospital, I finally gave in and committed myself.

Because I was under constant supervision, my doctor in the hospital was able to give me therapeutic quantities of drugs immediately: 40mg of Prozac, 10mg of Valium, 2400mg of Neurontin. It was a combination he had given to countless women who had suffered postpartum depression, one that had worked time and time again. I felt a difference within two hours, and if you ask Jon he will tell you that when he brought Leta up to the hospital that afternoon to have lunch, he saw Heather for the first time in seven months, not that awful woman who liked to throw keys at his head. I truly believe that my doctor in the hospital saved my life. I owe that man my life.

In the years since my hospital stay I have tapered off Valium completely and now only take 300mg Neurontin at night. I still take 40mg Prozac every day, and here's where I cannot be emphatic enough, I will continue to take it or something like it for the rest of my life. I will not ever be off medication. I continue to see my therapist, not every week or even every month, but whenever I hit a road block and need someone to help me talk my way through it. Sometimes I have bad days, sometimes bad weeks, but the medication enables me to cope, to see a way out and over those times. I am not ashamed of any of this.

I think many people are afraid that if they take medication or even agree to see a therapist that they are in some way admitting failure or defeat. Or they have been told by their boyfriend or their mother or their best friend that they should buck up and get over it, and that asking for help is a sign of weakness. Well then, let me be weak. Let me be a failure. Because being over here on this side, where I see and think clearly, where I'm happy to greet my child in the morning, where I can logically maneuver my way over tiny obstacles that would have previously been the end of the world, over here being a failure is a hell of a lot more enjoyable than the constant misery of suffering alone.

Yesterday I wanted to say this to someone but didn't because I'm afraid she will stop talking to me about certain things because I'm not telling her what she wants to hear. She wants me to tell her that she is right and that if she ignores a certain very large problem it will go away. But I don't understand why being right is more important that being happy, why someone would go on living with a sick, nauseating swarm of junk in her stomach rather than trying to figure out how to fix it, because the act of even admitting that she feels this way is somehow a character flaw.

All of this is to say that I am a success story. I am a victory for the mental health profession. And if you're even the tiniest bit on the fence about therapy or medication or herbs or acupuncture or prayer or meditation, whatever it is that you would turn to try and pull your way out of sadness but are afraid to because of all that it would mean, here is this crazy woman in the Utah desert who admitted and accepted all of those horrible things about herself and in doing so found a better life.


Dooce is one of my favorite sites to visit. After having a particularly difficult yet helpful session with Lee this morning, I opened up her blog to see what she had to say today. This is a terrible time of year for me; the emptiness, loneliness, and depression that come with this season have been almost unbearable these last few weeks. The fact that she choose to share this story, on this day, touched me in a way I can’t describe. Knowing that I’m not alone in my feelings, that people understand, others have been through it, makes me feel slightly less lonely…Jenn

A Horror Story

I went to the school tomorrow to take my entrance testing (which I scored 100% in each area), apply for financial aid, and register for classes. I had about an hour and a half to waste before I had to leave for work, so I went home. While I was sitting on the couth knitting, I heard a peculiar noise come from the sugar cage. Since I’ve known that Squiggle’s Joey would be emerging any day now, I thought perhaps that was what was happening, and got up to check. Just as I approached the cage, one of my males emerged from the sleeping pouch with the baby in his mouth. At once I knew something was terribly wrong. He scampered down to the bottom of the cage, where at first I couldn’t tell if he was cleaning it, or chewing on it. So I took one of their little blankets, and got it away from him, only to find that it’s little arm had been chewed off. It was dead. I know that it’s a sugar glider’s nature to cannibalize their young when they don’t survive, but I just couldn’t stand the thought of that. I wrapped the little thing up in the blanket, and disposed of his/her little body. It was a horrible sight and experience.

She's already gone...

Mom doesn’t leave the country for 11 more days, but she shut off her phone today, so it seems like she’s already gone. It’s kind of sad; you never realized how much you take the little things for granted until they’re gone. The simple convince of being able to pick up the phone and hear her voice whenever I need to; I don’t realize how much that means to me until I that time of year rolls around when communication with her is not so simple. I miss you already mom.

Goodbye my loves

I’ve had a tough couple of days. On Thursday I had to have Manny put to sleep. This beautiful boy that has been my friend & companion of eight years developed some behavioral problems that there was no cure for. Then on Friday, little Izzy passed away. I’m not sure why, but those are the chances that you sometimes take when rescuing animals in need.
Goodbye my friends, I will always carry you in my heart.

The Changing of the Seasons

There’s a chill in the air. The colors are changing. Everywhere you look someone is bundled in a warm jacket. Air conditioners have been turned off. Furnaces are flaring up all over the valley.
Fall is here.
How can it be here already? How is it possible? Wasn’t it just yesterday that I had to go out & buy an air conditioner because by place was so unbearably hot. Wasn’t it just a minute ago that my little Karma was curled up in bed with me, healthy & happy? Wasn't it just mere seconds ago that I knew who and where I was?
My life over the last few months has been a blur. Continuos repeat of rushing through one day to get to the next. Most days I have no idea what day of the week it is. Constantly overwhelmed with too much to do, and frustrated because I seem to get nothing accomplished.
I need change. I need life. What I have now is simply a form of existence. I breathe. I function. I think. I fumble blindly through each day. I exist. I do not live.
Depressions always seems to accompany the cold and gray skies of this season.

Show me some love...

I have a difficult job. But it's a job that I usually enjoy - most days. I deal with complicated problems and angry clients all day on top of being asked countless questions by my reps and handling my many assigned daily duties. I don't ask for much. I come to work, I do my job, I go home. I think I'm pretty good at my job, but it would be nice to hear every once in a while. Instead of "Hey Jenn, you did this and this and this wrong" how about "Thanks" or "you're doing a great job". This department is full of unhappy people. People that are leaving because they aren't receiving the praise that they deserve. Maybe management should rethink their recognition program...

Bye Bye Baby

Today is a bittersweet day for me. I sold my first Joey. I knew this day would come, but I had to chock back tears as I handed her over to her new family. I have a feeling that she’s going to a good home and will get all the attention she needs and deserves; I screened all that were interested pretty well, and I had a good feeling about this family. I just worry about tonight being the first night away from her mom and clan – poor little thing is going to be scared to death. I guess this is what it feels like to have your children grow up and move away…. even if your children aren’t human, the motherly bond is instinctive and it makes it hard to let go.

Life

Life
Is this it?
Is this what it’s all about?
Is it nothing but an eternal struggle to make if from one day to the next?
Life
Is it this way for everyone?
Or are some just given an easy path?
Who or what determines which path each of us is to take?
How much control do we really have over the life we are given?
Life
Am I the only one that feels so hopeless?
Am I the only one that wants to give up?
Am I the only one that doesn’t dare to hope?
Am I the only one that expects the worst in all things?
Am I the only one that feels so very, very alone?
Life
Does anyone understand?
Does anyone feel the same?
Life
Will the meaning of life forever remain a mystery?
An unanswered question?
Something I may glimpse at, but never grasp?
Life
Am I just out of my mind?
Is it time for a rubber room?
Why does it not bother me that it’s a possibility?
Life
What are the things that make life worth living for?
Will I ever find the answers?
Life
Will I always feel like a woman in chains?
Will I someday grow my wings and break free of all that binds me to my misery?
Life
Is it wrong to envy the lives that others lead?
Life
Is is unreasonable to want more than just a few fleeting moments of happiness?
Life
Am I foolish to hope that one day I will find the life I live meaningful?
Life
Is this really all there is?

How am I?

I’ve been asked several times in the last couple of days – How are you doing? I’m not really sure how to answer that. I can’t describe how I am exactly, and even if I could, the reality of small talk is that the asker really doesn’t want to know. The question is simply a civility – something that expects a short, sweet answer.
I am no longer in the state of despair that I was a short while ago. But I can’t say that I really feel any better. I have my highs; I have my lows; but the majority of the time I feel nothing at all. Numb.
Part of me wants to jump up and down and scream "I want my life back!" But whenever that urge hits me I think, "Wait, what life?" What have I ever done that makes me truly happy? Do I even know what being truly happy is? If I do, I can’t remember… I can’t remember a time in my life when I have been perfectly content. I can’t remember a time when some sort of turmoil wasn’t occurring.
As part of my seeing Lee every week, I have come to accept that I place no value on myself. It’s a hard thing to admit. I’m sure it will be an even harder thing to resolve. I tend to take care of everyone, and everything, except myself. How am I to override my way of thinking; the way I have lived my life for as long as I can remember? I have hope that Lee will teach me the tools to do this, but that hope is overshadowed by my belief that it isn’t possible.
I have a talent when it comes to the written word. But in this situation, where I have so much I want to say and express, I can’t seem to find the words. I want so badly to share with those that care about me what I’m going through. I want them to understand so that they can support me during this difficult time. But I can’t put into words the sadness, the loneliness, the emptiness, the frustration, and the general feeling of failure that I feel in regards to my life. In the same respect, I have no words for the sparse feeling of peace that I feel every morning when I sit on my front steps and listen to the birds, or the excitement I feel when I come home to all of the small furry creatures that are always happy that I am there. And I have no clue how to explain them emptiness that seems to overwhelm me on a daily basis.
So…. How am I? I truly don’t know – right now I’m simply surviving.

Plagiarized from Lost

Free stuff
Fake it. Take it. Use it. The advantage it gives is nominal in comparison to the greed it produces when pulled from wanton dreams…. The sadness….
Free stuff part II
For those of you who once loved someone but now don’t. Good for you. Loving hurts way too much and in the end it will be your ultimate downfall.
Friends
Why is it that one’s expectations never match up with another’s? Selfish pride mingled with a touch of regretful sorrow makes a good story. I guess I will buy it.
August
August is here. Looking back, the year has slowed to a mundane crawl. The goals and dreams of many have yet to materialize. Just beyond the grasp of the menial tirade.
What left is here to show hope for the final season before us. Fall is coming rapidly and yet winters cold grasp will be stayed for but a month in time. In this small second where time skips between moments, life slips quietly by.
Why do we miss the serenity that surrounds the silence between the torn violence that permeates each act of civil justice? The answers are there, plainly set before us yet we are never to understand what it states. The reality is too real for our understanding and screams to be hidden. We bury it in the cold earth.
Will it ever se the light of day? The decision lies with each individual. Can one person truly ever make a difference in a world that no longer contains any safe places?
Make a difference if you can. Reach out, yet be wary. There are those who lie in wait, seeking to lead you astray. Forever the night shall be when caught. Forever will it lead to paths unseen. Eyes that never forgive, lost on the site of something once thought beautiful.
Gone. It lies forever now in ruin.
August is here and the slow crawl of winter’s shill is behind the next window…
Forever is a long time… Right?

This week of events has left me somewhat mystified at the inner workings of fate and what we deem important in life. I laugh at the excuses people give when I know dame well they know better, I suppose it is human nature to rationalize what we should not and live in our self-made prisons rather than face the self-made tribulations.
I expect better of some. To know that you are used only for those tough times and never when things are going well does not sit well with me. I find it ironic that I get a call only when times are spiraling downwards; "so called" friends are there I am but an unseen ghost waiting in the background to be summoned upon a whim. It is sad to think that one would pick "friends" such as those over friends who actually care. Interesting, is it not?
However, as is the nature of balance, one friend leaves another one enters. I am always appreciative of new friends and new acquaintances and for new opportunities. Life has a myriad of mysteries to offer and the crux lies in determining which path to follow. Of course some lead dangerously close to edges best left uncharted and some lead to riches untold. Others lead to wanton desire while some lead to knowledge. All can be used for good or not. They are tools crafted over time by one willing to wield the risk.
As the weekend approaches I look back and am grateful for the experiences that have shaped my reality. The pain of the past becomes distant but is a continual reminder that without a challenge nothing can be gained nor can knowledge by put to the test. Nothing risked, nothing gained.
I am reminded of what comes next, the risk involved and the pain it could bring however the rewards can be worth it… Right?
Time will tell…

Fiction may just be better than real life… Maybe…
Full circle of undeniable loss that so drowns reality will flood with torrential life rain and soon you will be swept so far that hopes of ever returning will be lost.

Stylistic Motions of an Untamed Mind
From start to finish, I find each week passing quickly as though time itself is speeding by. The metaphysical passage of time does nothing to ease what lies in wait at each chasm. Only the crossroads of twilight offer resolution. Somber at best, it brings a slight glimmer of hope in a world where hope lies buried beneath the greed of physical substance…
As the fading light of day gives way to blank unseen waves of dark, a slight coldness can be felt if but for a small moment. A calming motion of liquid fluidity caught in a stream of unending solidarity.
As dreams float to the surface, a minimal path of resistance takes the shape of past weeks. The lives of thousands racing unswept across the barren wastelands of unliving thought. Change is necessary if not always wanted…

His writing touches me in ways I have no words for. He expresses the hopes, disappointments, and reflections that so often haunt my waking dreams. The poetry he inflicts on his words brings a chill across my skin and a hint of jealousy for his talent he possess that I do not.

I just wanted to share…

Go to Hell!

Join me, won't you? I could use the company.

ANGRY AND ALONE

Always trying so hard
Never succeeding
Growing more and more frustrated
Realizing that I am all alone
Yearning for someone to notice
Anyone care?
No one does
Dying a little more inside each day
Answers to questions that were never asked
Longing to understand
On the edge
No one will catch me when I fall
Everyone is so busy; I am irrelevant.

***This is an adaptation of a poem I can't quite remember***

My eternal struggle

My heart wants what it wants...
My mind knows what it knows...
My body needs what it needs...
My soul yearns for harmony.

Just the way I am?

I was talking to a friend of mine yesterday about how angry I was with myself in allowing myself to believe in people before they have proven themselves worthy. She pointed out something to me that I had not previously considered. Both she and I have come from similar pasts – we’ve both visited places of addiction; we’ve both done a lot of things we regret. I won’t say that I was a bad person during these times (nor was she – but this is a story about me so…), but I was young and misguided; I was selfish, and immature, and most of my actions were dictated by low self-confidence and absolutely no self-esteem. And because I know first hand that people are capable of changing – of finding their path and making a good life for themselves, of "growing up", I tend to automatically believe that the people in my life are capable of the same (especially those from my past). Unfortunately, I have been repeatedly disappointed because the faith and trust that I automatically put in people. Maybe someday I’ll learn to be more cautious, but it’s a difficult thing to do when it’s simply part of my nature.