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Healing Withdrawal Syndrome
Part 2- Gaining My Life Back
Continued From: Part 1- Enduring Withdrawal Syndrome
My earliest memory was from when I was 4 or 5. My dad and I were sitting on the shaggy green carpet in the living room in front of a TV stand the size of the average nightstand. The TV on it couldn’t have been more than 15 inches. It’s nothing like the massive set ups with 65 inch flat screens and entertainment centers that swallow up an entire wall, that people have today..My dad had our VCR partially in his lap. It was opened up and bits of it were laying on the floor in front of us. I was sitting next to him with a screwdriver in hand, giving him the tools he needed to repair it.
I treasure that memory, as I have less than a handful from before the age of around 10. I was slower at developing, due to my autism, including what age my memories really started forming at. That moment was one of many, though, from my parents teaching me to fix things. They weren’t big on the throwaway culture many have adapted to. We were pretty damn poor, we couldn’t afford to be wasteful.
I had the right tools then, but not this time. I wasn’t healing. I was using crutches. Artificial means to help me endure, instead of recover. The supplements, the vices, even my dad were all dragging things out longer. At one point I came across the…
