I just wanted to say, before I head off on vacation and disappear from here for a bit (not expecting to check in every day, is all I mean by that), is that for me, the worst part of being mentally ill is not so much what it does to me, but what it has done to those I love — whether it be the vagaries of my moods when I’m not in control, or the fear that I have of the motivations behind my actions when I AM under control.
I second guess every motive, every move; I worry myself and those around me with my constant fears.
I am so sorry this happens, over and over again.
I am born sorry.
Dark Matter 