Recovery; Commitment.

Your recovery is a commitment. It is something that you must commit to, wholeheartedly, every day, for the rest of your life – regardless of whether your world came crashing down, or the land is filled with daisies, unicorns, and sunshine. Otherwise, you accept death immediately. You are choosing life or death. That is your commitment.

It is important, however, to remember that sometimes, much like other parts of your life, you fail. You fall down. You scrap your knee. You lose yourself to the pain.

And you know what? That’s okay. That’s okay, so long as you get right back up, wipe aside your tears, slap a bandage on that knee, and keep trudging along to a better moment, a better day.

 

Recently, I had a stumble in my own recovery. A hiccup. I was constantly stressed and anxious due certain pieces of work in my life. I was eating nothing but junk. My mood shifts were drastic. And on two separate occasions, I almost relapsed.

I have since brought myself back up, but for anyone out there who is struggling with recovery, I just wanted you to know that it’s okay. It’s okay to not be alright all the time. It’s okay if you fall into a dark place sometimes.

Because here’s the thing – mental illness is not like a cold. You cannot take some medicine to make it go away. You cannot sleep it off. It is there, and it is always there. It is a part of your soul and who you are, and you must work with it if you are ever going to be happy. Whether you do therapy, take medication, go to support groups, or do something else that eases your personal ailment (exercise, hobbies, journaling, etc.), you are working on being a happier you, and that’s what is important.

 

Remember to never be afraid to ask your support system for help. Be sure to know who that is. It is not for the faint of heart. In this stumble, I have seen the people who will withstand the tests of time with me, and those who I will definitely not be writing home about. And that’s okay.

Does it suck knowing that certain people will never understand you? Yes. Is it better to know now rather than later which of the people in your life will love and appreciate you, no matter what? Oh yeah! And don’t worry, people who can’t handle it, we don’t hate you. It’s a hard job to support someone who suffers from mental illness. Better to be honest than to cause unintentional heartache.

 

Never settle for people who don’t love you for who you are, and don’t try to save people that you can’t.

 

And most importantly, never ever forget to love yourself. You are you, and that is special and beautiful.

To the Guy who thinks I’m too stuck on myself

To the guy who thinks I’m too stuck on myself to talk to anyone, you are probably not alone in that opinion. I don’t talk much. I tend keep a serious look on my face when I can. I am not the kind of person who runs up and starts a chat with just anyone. I just generally keep to myself.

To the guy who thinks I’m too good to talk to him, you might not know it, but I have PTSD. Years of manipulation, threats, and emotional abuse from a man I looked up to has given me generalized anxiety, social anxiety, and issues with depression. My natural response to people is to keep my distance, to stay away. The serious look on my face? I use it to deflect social interactions.

I do try to socialize, given that is what humans are – social creatures. Alas, in the past, I have spent hours pouring over every conversation I have in a day, in a week, over a year. Hating every word I ever say. Doubting myself. Agonizing over everything I ever said to anyone, driving to the end of my sanity.

You’ll understand if I don’t always want to jump head first into the nearest conversation.

To the guy who thinks I am being a stuck up b—-, my abuse taught me to hate myself. He told me I was fat, laughing at my eating habits. He told me I was ugly, but yelled at me when I decided to cover it up with make-up. I snickered at every sneeze and cough I ever uttered. Pointed out every outfit I wore and ripped it apart, the words being his shears.

To this guy who thinks that the problem is me and not him – it’s not me, it’s definitely you. I have made a lot of headway in my recovery. In the past few years, I have learned to love my body. I wear whatever I want, put on make-up if I feel like it, and don’t feel self-conscious when I sneeze. In the past few months, I have taught myself to enjoy conversations, and not to overanalyze them afterwards.

But here is the catch – I only feel like conversations with people I genuinely enjoy talking to.

Now, of course, my anxiety has kept me from talking to people I’d like to, but to those people, awkwardness would come into play. But you and I both know that our meetings are met with coldness, and that would be because you are LGBTQ-phobic. You made fun of the first plus-size model on a magazine cover, and said all women should be eating well and staying thin. You are more irresponsible than a kid on his 21st birthday, and you generally make everyone around you uncomfortable.

So yeah, maybe I am too stuck on myself to talk to you. But maybe you should figure out why that is before ignorantly pointing fingers.