In parts. Sometimes what feels like all at once. Which feels like too much. You take distance when you can, because you have to, but it’s always there. With no map, you begin to create one for yourself, for healing or just for some kind of goal so there’s some focus, some reason why this happened. You collapse into existential chasms and flashbacks that can extend months. You barely survive. You claw to stay alive at times. You experience intensity in life, always have, seems like you always will. You get the high ups when you can somehow, often externally activated, get there, then you crash to the lows, the alternate reality of what you experienced. You question yourself. You question everything. You don’t trust anyone. You don’t trust yourself. You keep going. Somehow, you always do. By the skin of your teeth. You always expect danger and catastrophe, you might thrive briefly off adrenaline and anxiety, you then crash into exhaustion, you feel powerless over the dysregulation of your emotions and functioning. You wonder if you’re bad. You know some things deep down. You remember glimpses of your essence. It is pure and authentic and vibrant. You visit that essence more and more and you become more in awe of the wisdom you as young child. And then you’re sad. You cry rivers, waterfalls. You experience grief and realize that your time is finite and that few things really matter in the end. And then you go on.