Reading old email. I've been increasingly okay and content for years, and I had forgotten why my bar for happiness is so low in the first place. I had forgotten how much more of a person I used to be. I used to be creative, and I had a sense of humor, and I had friends, and I had adventures, and I tried to learn from everything. Even when life was really bad I was pretty normal in my reactions to the circumstances. I was emotive and sane and determined and I kept myself whole for a long time.
What I've become since then isn't bad, but I maintained my functionality after breaking by building onto just the retained basic infrastructure of who I was before. Who I am is intentional now, and not particularly subtle or complex except where I've plowed through bad thoughts to retrieve specific parts of myself that I remember and don't want thrown away. I do the things that I have to do. I have the same ethical views I always had. I still like to eat beans and rice, and I still sleep on my side, and I still love science, and I can still put my feelings into words, but I'm not all here yet. Every drop of my being is focused on being safe and healthy and normal most of the time. I'm okay with doing that, but reminders that I was ever anything else are triggering.
I need to not so obliviously check old accounts in the future.