By December of last year I was hopeless and exhausted. My life on earth was almost over. I was dying. I had literally come to the end of the rope.

After living through 15 years of therapy, serious weight gain, high blood pressure, hating myself, trouble sleeping, not being able to think clearly, feeling crazy, and never being able to stand up for myself, people were still telling me I had to stay strong. I believed they were right. I was weak and worn out.  I told my therapist she had no idea how much I struggled and just in the nick of time she found a new psychiatrist. I am blessed!

The new psychiatrist put me on a new regiment of medications. They began to work in a few weeks. It feels so good to not feel hopeless and exhausted. I’m grateful and thankful and surprised. I never thought I would ever feel well again. I still struggle with triggers and flashbacks, probably always will to some extent, but I don’t want to die. Most of my parts want to live. I want to live, learn, have fun, and giggle a lot.

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