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There is No Montage

"There is only one thing I dread: not to be worthy of my sufferings."  Fyodor Dostoevsky
This time a year ago, it was a week after I left a mental hospital and six weeks before I’d return. I only have vague memories of that time. I only have vague memories of any time since then. 
I have been thinking of these last say 500 days or so as my lost year as it has been little more than me hiding in dark rooms, alone. Unemployed, underfed, unwashed, unsure of everything. The time has been marked by the dreamlike fog of strong anti-anxiety medication and the weird slow dissolve of most of my interests, my emotional range, the majority of my friends, and even my sense of self. 
I’ve been trying to dig myself out. I have made some progress. But there are cave-ins. There are always cave-ins. 
In my attempts to escape this rather brutal entrapment of the mind, I have been trying to find the source of my problems. But tracing back to find the root causes of mental illness is difficult. The…

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