I walked into a mental health clinic 24 years ago. I was literally a homeless, struggling, drug abusing, drunken tramp. I came from a decent home life as best as parents could provide, yet my eyes were blinded as my belly empty to the world beyond high school friendships and books. I was unseasoned to my own ideas and the ideologies of others more grown and seasoned to life.
I went into treatment disgusted, angry and unbelieving anybody could help me see the truth of living again. I was 34 years old then with beliefs that only God could keep me surviving and that materiality was a matter for the greedy and inane. I reached my 55th birthday quietly, while I held back a tear. Somebody likes me!
I have seen myself without home or job, without friends, without sanity, only a partiality of it; yet what makes me smile inside, is the psychiatrist who asked me, “for what reasons are my states in life”, or the case manager who says, “you can plan your life without fear with drink or drugs”. I have seen myself change, mentally and materially because I overcame my weakness of being weak, through posture of identity, lacking the foolishness of make believe. This is a reality of Outcomes in Recovery where there can be no disbelief if you care to live believing you can be free of your mental burdens, through understanding your identity and what you want to become free of. Does anyone ever really walk alone?
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