My little sister is an addict. A full-blown, non-stop, can’t see the rock bottoms she’s hitting, heroin addict.
I could never understand why I couldn’t seem to function in what was even a basic level of normal for most people. Now I know it was ADHD.
By choosing food over the things that really mattered, such as family and health, I was playing with fire, and I knew it.
Where’s the line between healthy pride in how far you’ve come and sinister pride that sneaks up and sabotages recovery?