I didn’t want to come back. Not because I didn’t need it. But because of what it meant. At least, what I thought it meant. I had 90 days. I
You’ve done everything you were told would help. You found a therapist. You made sure they went. You kept showing up—even on the hard days. And maybe, for a while,
You thought you were past this. There was a moment—maybe even a stretch of time—where things felt like they were getting better. More stable. More hopeful. And then something shifted.
There’s a conversation that happens quietly in your head. “I’ll just have one.” “Not tonight… okay, maybe just a little.” “I’ll take a break next week.” And then the next
There are questions people carry for a long time before they ever say them out loud. Not because they don’t matter—but because they matter too much. Questions like: “Is it
I remember thinking, “This is it? This is what better feels like?” Not out loud. Not in a dramatic way. Just quietly… in the middle of a normal day that
