I hate how this blog makes me feel. I'm already ashamed. I can see why people with their own Franks dont want to get better. why get better if living means constant scrutiny. I didn't expect to cone out of treatment and every decision I make to be perfect, but I'm trying. I was thinking I was a decent person. I literally don't know the right thing to do because every choice has some flaw, it seems. I'll never be able to repent for asking for so much help, which indicates a likelihood that I'll never spend a dime and not feel guilty, or I'll feel constant pressure to justify any money I spend. Which makes me want to shut up, hole up, cry, and hide.
That's just how I'm feeling now.
Last night was bad. Yesterday was bad. Frank is loud again.