Which means it's been about 18 months since the accident.
How am I doing? Fine, I guess. Good. Excellent. Grand. Isn't that what I am supposed to say?
Nobody likes a "Debbie Downer." But what about a "Rebecca Realist?" Where is that fine line?
How am I doing? Fine, I guess.
Today is hard. Good!
So tired. So so tired...
Excellent! Struggling, but it's just a phase. It will pass.
Grand! It has to. Right?
Fact: it's time to move on. I know. I know that. And I have. For the most part. But there are still triggers. Stupid blasted triggers. They like to hide and shoot at me from out of nowhere. Pretty normal though. It's not even new anymore. But, they still surprise me. Like this morning when I was triggered simply because of a phone call. Or it may be boredom, not doing anything for X amount of hours can put me over the age. Or mayb…