Guess TB is 'home' enough to me to be able to post about this, hopefully so, turning point in my life. Coming monday I'm going into therapy for 3 months. Just six months into a new job as a crosstrader for an airfreight company with ample opportunity and good pay - left the company this friday. I was still on temporary terms so was working there on a contract per week basis. I was on too good terms with this company to just give them a call coming monday to say I'm sick and will be out for three months, three months of therapy. And I didn't feel they needed to hear my story. So I told them I had another opportunity coming my way that was more 'my thing'. So I left in good spirits without blowing up bridges. My life has been dominated in part by a soaring headache, coming from scar tissue that formed inside my head after a bad bycicle accident when I was twelve. The tissue on the right hand inside of my skull was torn and grew back together, apparently with some nerves intertwined, or so is what I learned from endless visits to all kinds of doctors. Eventually I found a neurologist who at a very slow pace helped me tackle the 24 hour aching. Today it's manageable, but not entirely gone. I keep working on it. My upgrowing was a very troubled one. I can't say I ever really enjoyed life, and as a kid, before the bycicle accident, there already had been enough misery in the family to load any kid with a sense of fear. Most notably is my father, who was a worker's union big shot with an aggressive nature and a bad tendency for alcohol abuse. The other ones are my oldest brother trying to comit suicide over a bad love affair when I was eight. He had taken all the medicin he could find at home and was dying. My mother found him and was able to get him into our living room. I was crying like mad, eight years old, he was twenty back then. I still remember pulling his shirt and crying out to him not to go. For some reason I understood that he was dying. When I was fifteen my uncle, who had a serious Oedipus complex with my grandmother (who was an evil person by the way), had yet another devilish argument and he goes totally mad and stabs her... she dies. I remember the silence at home. Not a word said from my parents. Next day I just went back to school, feeling totally wrecked and ready to kill myself. Fast forward to 2008. Two of my best friends and I had a serious car accident. My best mate got thrown out of the car and is now in a wheel chair for the rest of his life. Can't talk, can't walk, can't eat on his own. I was the driver. All this has left me crazed out, and for some reason it has taken this much time to realise that I need to do this therapy to be able to put the past aside and take with me what is good. And life IS good. My two wonderfully crazy, loud kids are the most true example of that. Anyways, I'll be reposting on this in the coming months. Thanks for listening TB!