Somedays, I feel as though I remember more about Hey Arnold than my own adolescence.
I own a car. I have a job that offers me 40 hours a week. I have my own apartment and bills, and I alone, afford them. I wake up every day and take time to reflect on my path and choices. I mastered recognizing behaviors that lead to self destruction, and certain triggers. I’ve exercised restraint and enforcing my boundaries. I have a smart, beautiful daughter, and she makes me very proud. I’m well liked by the people who know me, despite my neurotic, manic episodes. Some people love me. I feel guilt where I should, and I’m always trying to better myself. Hell, I’m trying, actively seeking, to be a kind, well intentioned person. Being mindful when I remember it’s an option. I tell myself daily that my behavior is a conscious decision, even though my emotions are not. I feel free of shame, because of that. That’s a big deal, in my mind.
Fuck being so depressed. I’m doing fantastic under the circumstances. I have much to be grateful for. I have to break thru the cycles, and maybe there’s an easier way, but I like my way. I know I’m working toward betterment. I need to read this every day and not lose sight of what is true, outside of the hardships. I’m getting older, and wiser. I’m going to be good. I already am.