Mourning my Twenties

I concluded my last collection of essays with a rather bleak ending. I’d just had my first hospitalisation because I was at the beginning of an extreme breakdown and I promised that by the next time you heard from me, I would have tried my best to recover.

I have many amazing childhood memories, but through therapy I’ve come to the realisation that I spent too much of my childhood thinking things that I really shouldn’t have. Issues about gender identity and extreme confusion that no child should have to deal with. In a way, I feel like I was robbed of the “normal” childhood experience.

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Building My Nest.

It was a couple of weekends into my stay at the psychiatric hospital when I was introduced to the concept of the wellness toolbox. It was described to me as a physical box which has a number of things in it that will bring you comfort in times of high emotion. It was suggested that it should be kept near your bed or somewhere that would be easily accessible to you in times of need.

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I’ve intended to write about this for almost a year now. But for some reason, every time I’ve thought about it, something has made me put it off. This is going to be difficult, but I’m reassured by the courage of everyone who has spoken out before me about this very important issue. I had a scary sexual experience with a man in power. I’m terrified to admit this.

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