Gratitude for Hope

It is obvious that I have been struggling with multiple disorders and it is only now that I discovered  the precise diagnosis; C-PTSD and Mood Disorders.

I have a difficult  time conveying the fear I felt when I learned what C-PTSD is and the nebulousness of “Mood Disorders.” It hurt, and I wanted to cry when I read the letter.

What I actually want to address is the gratitude I have towards my friends, and especially my family.

My family fought harder for me than I ever fought for myself. They stepped up, pressed me to find the strength within myself  that I didn’t believe I possessed. They gave the match to light the still fragile fire that is the hope I thought I lost.

The only way I can think of repaying them is to not give up. Because of all of you I have been able to choose the way of life that I’ve always dreamed of and to have.

I have not felt this kind of hope in a very, very long time it is a relief to know that is still inside me.

Lately I have felt something that I thought wasn’t even possible for me to feel anymore and that is happiness, small and fragile as it is now, it is growing and I am elated– feeding, letting it grow, it deserves to. I deserve to let it develop, I deserve to be happy and I want to say thank you for those believing in me that I deserve this kind of happiness,  that I  deserved to follow my dreams,  to not be confined within the opinions of others.

Thank you for telling me that happiness is still possible for me.

Morning Edition: Living in Mr and Mrs. Beakerston’s Laboratory

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Today is in a way a test-run to see how well I handle being alone for a week. I have to take care of sweet puppies, clean, do my homework and study for tests. It was very nice until I I started to cook breakfast.
The coffee maker was easy enough, I’ve used it before. What I wasn’t expecting was the Psycho Sensitive Smoke Alarm. I put the bacon in and maybe two minutes later it starts wailing. It does the three times. THREE TIMES. There very few noises that I truly hate and hearing that first thing in the morning before I’ve even had my sanity (coffee) is a bit much.
So what did I do? I ended of fanning away the non existent (you couldn’t see a damn thing) smoke with… a cutting board. A six inch cutting board. I think at some point I started hopping up and down to “help” appease the alarm. The best part? My coffee was cold by the end of this.
How does Mrs. Beakerton cook in the house?

That was this morning’s adventure. Expect two more posts–afternoon and evening edition.