Seems that seeing my doctor means having my dreams crushed. Last time I was told that I couldn't have a mastectomy unless I got breast cancer first, and that I'll be a different person twenty years from now, so I shouldn't get sterilized because I have to think of my future self and what she'd want. If that's what my future self is going to be like, I'd want nothing more than to sterilize her. What happened to being an adult, being allowed to make decisions that have permanent consequences?
I hate not being taken seriously.
So today my doctor suggested that waking up in the middle of the night is normal and that there is nothing that can be done to fix it. I just sat there and cried through the whole appointment, while answering questions digging into my past, realizing that I am still struggling with the same problems that haunted me ten years ago.
My name is Ragnhild. I'm twenty-five, and I've never held a real job. My education is high school drop-out level. There is no light at the end of my tunnel, because it's not a tunnel, it's a cave. I can't dig very fast, and no one knows how deep this mountain is.