There’s a point in everyone’s recovery where you realize that you cannot do it alone.

3 years out of treatment and I still struggle to accept this.

Every time I reach out to someone, I feel this sharp pang of idiocracy and embarrassment mingled with the guilt that I just disturbed the universe.

I wish pumpkin spice lattes and wooly sweaters were enough to keep the triggering thoughts of this time of year out, but they’re not.  The sadness just lays across my eyes and I pass through the days in a haze.
…..I’ll still keep drinking the lattes though.
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