Dear Gods. I've said it before here....but history repeats itself. The last time I touched this diary, or even really gave it any thought, was 2011. At that time, I was starting my first internship of grad school...and oh boy how that has changed.

Currently, it's 2015. I graduated from grad school, got my provisional therapist license, and now I'm a fully licensed therapist. This diary (now we would call it a blog) has lasted 12 years and has kept my secrets better than any would could ever have. I'm 27 now, but I won't claim to be the adult that I so readily claimed in the past. That poor kid that wrote these posts seems so far away that I don't even recognize the words that were written.

I know now that the cause of most of my turmoil was growing up in the environment I did. Two years ago I accepted the fact that my mother is an alcoholic and is mentally ill. Her diagnosis of borderline personality disorder did a number on me...teachings me life lessons that were completely fucked. I've learned and grown from it after two rounds in therapy myself. I learned how to handle the feelings of emptiness I felt, the self destructive tendencies I learned, and the obsessiveness that my mother passed on to me. Those days are long gone (I hope).

I left Tim far behind but I still think of him from time to time. I will not ignore we had something profound, but poor little me thought I was growing. Growing happens, but not as quick as I thought. I know now that I was most likely having some kind of adjustment disorder. Re-reading my old posts were pitiful, depressing, and borderline pathetic. That was a dark place in my life...thank God I got help.

I'm on my third boyfriend with this diary. That's right, the infamous Mike I posted about the last time stuck around. He broke the chain of boyfriends with three letter names. We've been together for almost 5 years now. He can be a royal pain in my ass and very selfish but I love him all the same. I'm so proud of myself that I started that off with a negative about him instead of placing him on a pedestal like I did with Tim and Lee. I've learned to love, give space, let go, and process. I know I'm not done learning therefore I won't assume I'm a pro. I know I'm not.

I want to reach back and tell that little boy that things do get better...but that would change who I am. I've suffered...a lot. I've made mistakes (some pretty big ones too), but I've gotten back up and kept going. Believe it or not, my mom is even in a better place. I escaped from her to the best of my ability. I got my own car, house, insurance, and phone. I emotionally distanced myself until I could handle being close again. She noticed her flaws and began fixing herself as well. She even apologized to me after some time because she knows she destroyed my childhood. How things do change.

Just to please and terrorize the little child that started this blog....I'm sittin here writing this on an iPhone. Now, I know we said we would never leave team blackberry but here we are. It's mine, it works, and I'm connected in ways my little 14 year old heart would have never comprehended.

I wrote this while I was eating dinner by myself. I always seem to come back to this thing while eating by myself. I hope it isn't an omen of bad things to come but one of a realization that life moves on. Even when I start to feel myself falling into the cycle of previous behaviors...I can remind myself it's not a cycle; just a path I'm familiar with and can handle.

I hope to never lose this diary. I hope it immortalizes my feelings and thoughts so I can always have a constant to check myself with as well as to remind myself how much I've grown.

Oh nostalgia.