A week ago my new employer told me that I will attend a week long training session to learn the systems and procedures of the company where I have only recently started working. It was an added bonus when they informed me that they would be flying me in to do it at our Head Office in Pretoria,the administrative capital of South Africa.
It was when we drove passed the private hospital in Centurion that I had a full circle moment.
I have been to this city only once before in my entire life: exactly ten years ago.
I was 21 and desperate to die. I almost did, that very week. I remember how tremendously lonely I felt. It was as if I woke up one day and hope was gone, replaced by such a strong desire to die. Ironically it was the knowledge of certain death looming that gave me the strength to put my mask on everyday and act my part.
It was during my time in this hospital, that I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder.For the first time in my life, my life made sense. Don’t get me wrong now, after the diagnosis, my life was still fucked up in every way imaginable and every area imaginable, but at least it made sense.There was now, at least, understanding.
And so I built from there, and destroyed, and built, and destroyed,, and built.
Today,driving pass that hospital, my heart cried out for the boy I was then. My spirit,however, is grateful to the boy I was then, for without him I would not be where I am now: embarking on a journey to become the very best version of myself. Led by Grace