For San Francisco rent on one salary our quality of life went way down, but after the shock of the constant city hum wore off, I was glad to be there. That said, nothing in my life thus far had removed me so much from my family than the move to a big city. No one could understand it, they were all so afraid and intimidated by it. City and country are like night and day and I was the sunrise that everyone slept through. I took refuge only in my marriage, and any molecules of self-love that fall to my mouth from my tears. Self-esteem is not one of my gifts and Imposter syndrome on top of that stirs up so much anxiety and despair I could destroy an entire Earth. I was so different than the cultured city folk and developed a shame around my origins. I finished my bootcamp though (yay) and had been searching for a job, studying, applying, interviewing, feeling humiliated, getting rejected over, and over, again. My feelings became harder and harder to take. But drugs and alcohol were there for me.

These new habits made old habits harder to diffuse and life was getting rough. Then one day, my Mom passed away, suddenly and unexpectedly. Suddenly and unexpectedly, I wasn’t there. I fell deep down into a crisis. I was addicted, off the rails, my state pierced more trauma into my body than it could possibly hold and my poor husband lie there with a gaping wound in his heart. How we would ever come back from this I didn’t know.