Progress

For a long time, life was urging me to seek help, but I was stubborn. Life kept pushing harder, and eventually, I relented. Now, I've received professional assistance (again, insert feelings of shame and stigma here).

Yet, after spending a week in this new environment, something shifted. It might sound strange or even hypocritical, but I've begun to feel joy in both big and small things.

Here are some observations of what’s happening at the moment:

The snob in me has taken a back seat. I'm content in my simple room and no longer feel the need for more possessions. The comfort is wonderful, but I don't lie awake at night, clenching my teeth in fear of losing it.

I've realised that I am deeply loved and cherished. My friends were sincere when they assured me I wasn't alone. They are here every day, reassuring me that I will never end up "on the streets," which has always been one of my biggest fears.

The people around me are dealing with their own challenges, but everything is relative. For example, a lady here, despite having dementia and a kind nature, still engages with others. No one laughs at her, and even if some don’t want to talk, she speaks to them anyway.

Another revelation: while I still enjoy dressing up and staying fashionable, it feels liberating to let go of perfectionism and simply live my best life.

Take Marcel, for instance. He doesn’t care about fashion; he has only one set of clothes he's worn for a week. Does that make him miserable? No. The only thing that saddens him is not being able to see his mom. He walks with his head held high, undeterred by his limited wardrobe.

So, what I want to say is that I have many blessings to count.