My whole life, I have defined myself by the work I do.  I have worked from the age of 7 and I am now 45.  That is a long time to have one definition of who you are.

And now, I am told that I can no longer have that definition.   I can’t have it, because I can’t work.  I am too damaged to even greet folks at Walmart for any appreciable length of time.  But, you would never know it to look at me.

I am one of the growing number of people who need clinical intervention for my mental health.  Something fundamental has broken inside of me.  They tell me it is probably biological, but that information is not really useful to me.

I always thought that the handful of pills everyday and the constant therapy was going to get me back to normal.  Normal, meaning back to work.

Turns out I’m going to have to seriously redefine “normal”

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