I was chatting with a coworker about how I’ve landed here – admitting I’m an alcoholic (something that even just typing the words makes me curl into myself) – and how part of it stemmed from the emotional breakdown I had six days ago. This coworker responded,
“No such thing as an emotional breakdown. Only repairs. Repairs are worth more than the original. Upgrades always value at a higher rate.”
I’ll be honest. I teared up. The person who said that to me kind of knows me. And obviously they’re a safe person otherwise I wouldn’t be communicating with them about anything real, but they still don’t know me. Not all of me. And yet here they are – telling me it’s okay, that I’m okay. I’m not broken. I’m better than new. My good qualities have been augmented, my areas of opportunity minimized. I’ve not been irrevocably changed.
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