If everyone had so much to say about my life, why was I always the last person in the room to know? I stopped being manageable a long time ago. Maybe that's the real issue. I stopped moving at their pace. I stopped accepting answers that didn't make sense. I stopped confusing compliance with recovery. There is a difference between helping someone find their light and slowly teaching them to live without it.
Everyone Had a Version of My Story Except Me
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theRecord • Becoming • IAM