Although i didn't write it down, i think i took the cover picture for this blog in Northern Manitoba, by the border of Ontario. I went across much of Canada (Toronto to Vancouver) in two thousand and five, by rail, by myself, just one year after my breakdown.
My trip was precipiated by seven or so months of horrible arguments and bad decisions with my husband, (who i now like to call my "wasbund"), three months following an eight-week stay in hospital care for a recovery program for PTSD and four months of out-patient therapy that was going nowhere.
I would have done anything to get away from the ongoing mental mush i was mired in and the vibrating, persistent pulse of marital negativity that surrounded me.
After my hospital stay i realized it was true: he really was an idiot.
My therapist at the time gave the strongest endorsement for going on the trip, she being a large shareholder in what was my most vulnerable asset at the time - my mind.
My family was on-board and so it was a consensus that taking this trip would help me "move on".
They were right. I asked my husband to leave about two days after i got home.
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