A muggy, hot summer morning. My usual drive to my favorite Starbucks in Dallas. Where I had written most of my book outlining my struggles with body dysmorphic disorder, addiction and eating disorders. I had touched on how they affected my career(or lack thereof) as an attorney and my struggles during law school but never really went into the reality of what it meant to be a lawyer and an addict. A profession often wrapped around ego, pride and the need to hide all weakness even in the face of losing all.
I drove past the same bus-stop every day. To the average person on his/her way to their next “stop” of the day, in life, nothing to set it off from any other. People waiting to go to different parts of their lives. Jobs, family, shopping. All speculation, no need to think further about what put them there at that moment. No more than speculating what put that homeless person on at the light with sign mere feet away from the bus stop. Sometimes I speculated. Sometimes I gave money. Most times I did not. Too lost in my own life.
Read the rest on my blog at PsychCentral.com