LOVE ROLLER COASTER
The Roller Coaster of a Day: Reflections on Justice, Therapy, and Hope
Yesterday was a lousy day. Not the worst I’ve had, but bad enough to knock me down for a bit. Looking back, I think I overdid it on Vyvanse—too much fuel for my brain, and anxiety came crashing in to remind me of my limits.
The week before had been different. Inspired, focused, and riding a wave of hyper-productivity, I dove headfirst into legal and medical research. GPT-4 was my companion, helping me map out a plan to file Freedom of Information (FOI) requests with over a hundred sources to gather documentation for my legal battles. I was full of energy, teetering on the edge of brilliance—or obsession. But as usual, the crash came. That’s the problem with being an all-or-nothing kind of guy: I burn brightly, but the flame flickers out just as fast.
I talked to my therapist recently—a Halifax-based professional I was connected with through Victim Services. When I shared my plans for a legal campaign, my unresolved grievances with my late father, and the corrupt web of people who destroyed my life, including two Justices of the Peace with mob connections, he listened carefully. And then he said something that stuck with me:
"I think that ship has sailed."
As much as I hate to admit it, he might be right. The weight of pursuing justice feels insurmountable right now. Physically, financially, and mentally, I’m not sure I have the resources to fight this battle. That realization hurts. For years, I’ve carried the pain of what was done to me, dreaming of a day when I could expose the truth and reclaim what was stolen. But maybe I need to let go.
There’s a line from Romans that echoes in my mind:
"Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord." (Romans 12:19-21)
Letting go doesn’t mean forgetting. It doesn’t mean forgiving, either—not yet. But maybe it means finding peace in the fact that some battles aren’t mine to fight.
Today, though, I feel okay. It’s 5:15 AM Atlantic time as I write this, and I feel a quiet kind of clarity. I’ve got this blog, and that’s something—a little corner of the internet where I can speak my truth, reflect, and connect. It brings me a measure of happiness, even when my mood feels like a pendulum, swinging from high ambition to deep despair.
Tomorrow, I might feel differently. That’s the nature of me, my ever-changing mind, and my uncertain path forward. For now, I’m holding on to the good moments and letting the rest ebb away.
We’ll see what happens next.
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