my nickname is bootstrap.
part of that has to do with where i was born. but most of it has to do with how i work.
my brain chemistry changes significantly after the accident. it was a big aha moment.
the way i experience everything changed.
my depression didn’t exist because of a chemical mishap - it existed purely because of a number of factors that became extremely clear.
i wasn’t sad for nothing - but rather because of my own failings and those around me. and luckily, my liquified brain saw a path forward for every failing.
but in part of this is a realization is the need to build new bridges as i don’t have the ability to cross the old bridges anymore.
this is like a construction project being run by the lake buena vista contruction: if you weren’t informed of the demolition crew, you will only see a facade ofornamental shrubbery so impressive, you would never thinkg to question the building, now ruble, it’s hiding.
an hour after i delievered my son, i passed out in the bathroom, hemorraging severly
as my eyes closed i remember thinking it was okay because my son was finally safe across the room
i used to think happiness was a muscle.
something that could be built, but just as easily atrophy without permission
as someone in the business of literally building happiness, it has taken me too long to see that after building for others, maybe it is more like blood.
once you’ve realized you are out, it’s too late.
