So, um.... I'm back!
Yeah. Back... Hm.
I was a huge asshole, guys. I was angry, hateful, paranoid... meth did a serious number on me and I owe you all an apology. I was insane... you know those Toyotas that got recalled? The ones that accelerated all by themselves and caused a big ruckus? That was me, and I was screaming at the wheel the whole time, horrified by what I was doing.
In essence, I was an angry, hateful, paranoid person. Please, don't think that I was angry at you-- it was myself I was angry at, and myself that I hated. Paranoia? It's because I was terrified that I wasn't going to be able to stop, and that I would hurt myself, and that I would die. Please, none of these are excuses, but simply this: an apology. I can never make up for what I have done, but what I can offer is just simply that. An apology.
So I'm back now, and treatment was a good experience. Enjoyable? Hell no. Useful? Very. I did a lot of crying, a lot of yelling, and a lot of... eating! It's so good to have body fat again!
I cannot tell you how good it is to be back. Not because I particularly think Seattle is the best place for me, nor because treatment was a bad place to be... but because it is an amazing feeling to have clarity, and to not be fucked up, and to not be angry, and to not be so so scared. I'm very grateful. Living without fear of yourself-- it's a feeling to cherish, I can tell you, because it's what I had for a very very long time.
No! I'm not cured. Never will be: but now I know I have to manage my disease, and I will do my damnedest to do that. I can't be that guy again.
Thanks, everyone. I love you.