For a long time I thought that I was unstable. I thought that I was the problem. Even when an ex-friend of mine called my boyfriend, to weeks into our relationship, to "warn" him to be careful with me because I am "all over the place," I still thought that something must be really wrong with me. I think back to all of the times that my own mother would call me a failure despite all of my accomplishments.
And as I now sit in front of my budget spreadsheet, I realize the truth of what my therapist once told me. I am not unstable by nature. I have merely reacted to my chaotic environment. I have actually been a port in a gigantic storm. I was already a parentified child from the age of 7. My college's theater department was definitely chaotic with its incestuous nature and competitive rivalries.
I have been hopping on what I thought were stones. They were really logs that could, and often did, turn over at any moment.
This isn't to not hold myself accountable for any mistakes or fuckups. It is, instead, a realization of what is "true" for myself and what is not.