I've been at an in-patient treatment facility for a little over three weeks now.
I had no idea how much I'd been holding in, or holding back, or holding onto, and nobody had been honest enough with me to tell me that it was possible for me to let it go and move on. I met a friend here, a true friend, who has had the strength and courage to stand up to me, to watch over me and, occasionally, hold me as I've cried, and to tell me when I'm holding on to things that are making me unhappy. He's been tough enough to tell me that it's time to let it go, to learn to be happy.
All of this is frightening.
Life is not as beautiful as I'd hoped it'd be as I prepared to possibly get out of here, but I'm quickly realizing that all I can do is encourage the healing process to speed up, to push myself harder to get more out, and to attempt to move on from the bad habits, negative people and poor choices that have haunted my past.
I'm no less scared of getting out of here, nothing short of terrified of returning to work, and to trying to face all of this from the outside world... but I'm starting to believe that I might be strong enough to pull it off.