My History

 When I was 23, I had a bit of an existential crisis. Having been a relatively strong, independent adult for some time, I thought it would be good to "return home", to the nest., to rely on my parents emotionally and what would turn out, financially.

I back-tracked. Low and behold, guess who was violent to me? My father. I was scared to make it on my own, to continue treading the way forward in my life. I had just been rejected by my high school ex-girlfriend for the second time, and the pressure was too much. I couldn't face doing my last semester of university, so I retreated.

I retreated to (what I thought was) a safe space, and the next two decades, my entire youth and best years, flew by in hospitalizations, moves, and fights with family.

I am now finally 41, and free from family restrictions (and toxicity). I have used up my 20's and 30's, and am now too old to do a lot (or so I have been conditioned to think), but at least I am not a child any more. I think I permanently damaged my sense of inner autonomy, but, here I am. I am medicated. I am powerless (physically at least). I look around and dream about my peers who have all gone on to live fruitful, happier lives with families. There doesn't seem to be too much for me in my future, given the cocktail of medications that I'm on.

I need these medications to cope. My only hope is to be a regular at the clubhouse, where they are compassionate, and go on like that. I have my computer, too.