I almost didn’t share this because I thought you’d judge me.
Here’s the part of my story I used to be ashamed of.
When I was 23, I moved back into my parents’ house after losing everything.
No job. No savings. Barely leaving my room.
One night, my mom found me sitting on the kitchen floor.
You need help, she said.
I know.
She sat beside me.
Then she whispered:
You’ve been through this before.
I looked at her.
What do you mean?