It was July of 2010 when the dreaded diagnosis came. I had always had my suspicions and so had others, but denial was the place I lived in for a long time. That July was different.
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I woke up one day and realized that I couldn’t take much more. I was done feeling hopeless and worthless. I was done with the exhaustion no amount of sleep could fix. I was done with the intrusive thoughts. I was done, period. I started becoming reckless. I didn’t want to die; I was scared of it. I just yearned for an end to my constant pain.