I read a passage written about a patient.
It read like a novel, and the character described was a sad loner type–someone who puts up walls and feels they can’t trust anyone because of a traumatic past.
It was me being described, and I was sad that anyone would see me in that way. It made me feel pathetic, and I shed a few tears. Some for the doctor who saw me that way, and some for the caricature of myself.
Maybe I seem like a broken down mess, but I still walk tall. My head is held high.
I’ve seen my fair share of pain, but I am a warrior, nonetheless. And I am a healer, and I am Whole.
It is up to me to create a narrative for myself.