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I think some people think therapy and recovering from mental illness is that one day, you just wake up "well" again, and everything is sunshine and rainbows, and you'll never be mentally ill ever again.
When, in reality, you're often talking yourself down from a category five meltdown with the patience and trust you were never shown by anyone else.
"I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't do this."
You can, actually. It's going to suck, and you're not going to enjoy it. But you can do it. And one day, maybe you'll even have to heal from it like you've done with other things. But right here, right now, you can do this. You're also allowed to complain and bitch the entire time.
No one said you had to take it well.
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[“When I used to teach creative writing, I would tell the students to make their characters want something right away—even if it’s only a glass of water. Characters paralyzed by the meaningless of modern life still have to drink water from time to time. One of my students wrote a story about a nun who got a piece of dental floss stuck between her lower left molars, and who couldn’t get it out all day long. I thought that was wonderful. The story dealt with issues a lot more important than dental floss, but what kept readers going was anxiety about when the dental floss would finally be removed. Nobody could read that story without fishing around in his mouth with a finger. Now, there’s an admirable practical joke for you. When you exclude plot, when you exclude anyone’s wanting anything, you exclude the reader, which is a mean-spirited thing to do.”]
kurt vonnegut
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Median House Costs by US States as of July 2025, via Realtor.com
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