“How will I get better if I genuinely don’t think I want to?”

Seven months ago, I sat in a beach chair at T Street. Bundled in a navy fisherman’s sweatshirt that smelled like home, I watched the quiet winter waves ebb and flow. Crash, flood out to shore with a sense of urgency, then, as soon as it arrived, receded back to the place of true anonymity - the vast, seemingly never-ending ocean…