I’ve been told that I’m lucky. That it’s better that I’m so young and that I’ve been diagnosed and am getting help. In one hand, that is true, I’m sure. I haven’t had twenty or thirty years of wondering what is wrong with me…of rambling through life without having full control of myself. But in the other side of things, it still took them 10 years plus to figure out what was “wrong” with me. That is still over half my life with diagnoses that were wrong, medications that didn’t work, regimens that would fail after multiple months. It still was a nightmare of things to deal with. After all, uncertainty over one’s mental health is always painful, no matter how many years or how young the person in question was. . .
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