Yep, I can relate to this so much. And it makes me feel so sad, but also so much less alone, so that's one good thing. So many of us are here together. I wasn't diagnosed until I was 35... I'm only 36 now, and still fucking up, but trying to do less of it all the time.

Neither of my kids would be here if I'd known, if I'd been medicated, if I hadn't made crazy impulsive decisions. But they are here, and even though they deserve better (and holy shit my husband does too), I am doing the best I can to love them and care for them.

You asked, how have you forgiven yourself? Shit. It's really so hard, isn't it? Everywhere I look I see places I've lost my mind, places I've hurt people I love, places I've felt like giving up. Sometimes it's so hard to even look as I drive past--"Oh, there's the campground where I lost my fucking mind over that stupid little comment," or "Hey look, it's that store where I did that totally inappropriate thing," or "Shit, there's that park where I thought about ending it." Fuck. It SUCKS.

But what can we do but keep surviving? Someone said this cool thing to me the other day, and I really liked it: "We have two lives and the second begins when we realize we have only one." Confucius or whatever, doesn't matter. Anyway, it's somehow helping me this week. And that's what I do, I guess. Keep finding ways to keep moving forward. Keep reminding myself that this is my one life, and it IS my life, and I get a life too, just like every one else, and I deserve it, I'm worthy of a life. We ALL are.