Projectme

I should be dead. Around 5.5 years ago, on my birthday, I was at the lowest point I had ever been in my life. If you know anything about my story, you know that is saying A LOT. From the outside, my life looked fabulous. I had a couple million in the bank, a luxury townhouse in Los Angeles, had my own business, could work from anywhere in the world (and I did), had “friends,” and my sweet giant fur-baby Molly. BUT I DIDN’T FEEL LIKE I BELONGED IN THIS WORLD. I DIDN’T FEEL I WAS WORTHY OF EVEN BEING ALIVE. Truly, since we are being so raw and real here, I never felt like I ever fit in, like I ever belonged. I always felt different, but not in a good way. I did my best to survive and fit in. I wore the right clothes, took the right jobs, said the right things, had regular doctor and dentist visits, laughed at jokes that weren’t funny, and hit the gym almost every day. I felt like the living dead, just going through the motions of life with rare glimpses of happiness (never pure joy, had no idea what that was or