So, it turns out even the most broken people can heal

My delirium

  When I wake up in the morning, sometimes it feels like I’m living a life that’s not my own. I used to be so lonely, afraid and self- rejecting. Yes, I was suicidal. But beyond that, I was sick.

  I didn’t feel safe in my home due to past abuse and drama, and I didn’t feel safe in my mind either. My thoughts were like twisted mazes—I felt claustrophobic and lost in them, yet they always started at the same place, and ended in the same place too.

  I hated myself because I was taught to. But I also hated myself for putting up with other people’s bullshit. I would take slander with a smile, and internalize it. I believed with all my might that if I could just be strong enough, smart enough, pretty enough, and thin enough, then people wouldn’t criticize me anymore.

My life in coping

  So I hid myself. I didn’t talk about my thoughts or feelings or beliefs, and I tried to just agree with whomever was in the room. And it worked, for a while.

  I had a long-term boyfriend, some “best friends”, my teachers and parents were proud of me and thought that I would really amount to something. And I thought that made it all okay.

  But I couldn’t go on like that forever. My want to be thin manifested as an eating disorder, my want to not be a burden manifested as depression, and my fear of speaking out manifested as shyness, anxiety, PTSD, and self-hatred. And I didn’t know what to do about it.

  So I resigned to it. I gave up trying to be the golden child and let myself wallow in the shame and humiliation of being sick, messed up, and needing help. So. Much. Help.

The breakdown

  I was a toxic, scared person. And I just accepted it. I told myself, “screw it, I can’t be who they all want me to be without killing myself or going crazy. So if I’m crazy for not being who they want me to be, then I’m crazy either way, aren’t I?”

  And I broke down. I kind of started to hate myself a little bit more as I settled into the misery of the truth that I would never be what everyone wanted me to be. And personally, at the time, that meant that I could never be who I wanted to be, because all I wanted was to be the girl who was so perfect that everyone approved of her all the time.

  When I realized that it was an impossible goal, it broke me. People are going to want what they want from you, and they’re going to believe what they’re going to believe. You have the choice to decide if you give it to them. And if you don’t, then they might have feelings about it.

  It wasn’t a relaxing into truth, so much as a collapsing into what had to be. Over time, I hated myself more, as I said. I made an identity out of being the black sheep, the rebel. I deeply felt other’s disappointment in me.

Not everyone abandons you

  But you know what else I felt? Some people saw this in me-the refusal of expectations and perfectionism- and they were proud of me for it. They supported me!

  It was the support of these people who spurred me on, and gave me hope even in the worst of days when I was crashing and thought there was nothing more to me than a warped, mentally-ill waste of time.

  If you knew me during this time, you would very much agree that I was a far cry from the person I am today. I had panic attacks on public transportation, I felt suicidal when someone added a splash of oil to my rice, my personal hygiene was worse than questionable, I cried all the time, for little discernible reason and I was a horrible friend—not getting back to my friends for days, weeks, months at a time.

  And yet, there were some people who were able to see past all of this and emotionally connect with me anyway. They let me break down. Get sick, and believe that maybe that was just who I was. They let me ask the desperate question, “if I wasn’t a mess, what would I even be?”

A dangerous identity

  I believed this about me for some years. Each time I would have a new realization that would heal me, another issue would come up to haunt me. Another reason why I was broken and ugly. Another reason to collapse to the ground in defeat.

  I didn’t just leave my old life behind, I escaped. I escaped my thinking tendencies kicking and screaming, and fell into mental illness. And everyone I knew was willing to admit that I wasn’t all there. Every day was fight that I felt I had to be killed or live to fight another day. And some days I barely escaped with my life.

  But after each day of fighting like hell, I learned something new about the world or myself, a little advantage I could use to fight better the next day. And that’s what coping skills are, and belief building, and any means you use to change your environment around you. They’re just moves you can use in your fight tomorrow.

  I got lost in recovery. Recovery forced me to acknowledge more and more each day that I was sick, that I was twisted, that I was a little bit off. And instead of learning how to cure a mental illness it became very clear that the point was to manage it instead, and eventually get so good at managing it that I did it automatically. So that’s what I did.

Surprise! Recovery happens

  One day, eventually, I woke up and behaved, by all accounts, relatively normally. But I don’t remember that day. Because it was automatic. And then later down the line, I didn’t. I picked up my old habits again, and had to put out a few fires here and there. Back and forth, and so on and so on.

  Over time, the bad days were fewer and farther between. My norm was replaced with regular days. Happy days, stressful days and okay days in between. Then at some point I woke up and realized, “oh my goodness sakes, I’m a normal person.”

Blissful peace

  I’m not sick anymore, and don’t really meet the diagnostics of a mental illness. I don’t require therapy, hospitalization or vigilant watch. And that shocks me to my core. Because being sick was supposed to be just, “who I was”.

  Sometimes, I still have those days. When I just can’t seem to get a grip and grab a gripe session instead. And I remember the destructive things that made me feel so good and calmed me down. Some days they even still seem like good ideas.

  But I know by now I’m stronger than these thoughts and urges. And I know that the direction they take me in isn’t good, or what I want for myself.

  I also have days where I can’t believe this is my life. I can eat food that I like without being scared, I have a wonderful partner and a safe and happy home, where I focus on my goals and dreams. And I’m happy, and healthy. It doesn’t seem real that I got out of such a horrible time when I really didn’t think I ever could or that there even was a way out to begin with.

A new outlook

  But now that I’ve gotten some distance between me and what I think was the worst of my life, I truly believe that it was an important part of my journey. If I had never seen such a helpless scene, I would never know how badly my thoughts could affect me. And I would never have gone in such a positive direction, because there would have been no contrast to steer myself within.

  I’m starting to believe that there is no such thing as crazy. People go through mental illnesses, tragedies, dramas, and we’re all just human beings in the end, who are trying to navigate our existences. And you know, whatever you’re going through, no matter how dark, it doesn’t preclude you from having happier times ahead. In fact, it almost assures it, because how could the future get any worse than your biggest nightmare?

  I guess my point is, it’s time to stop judging ourselves for points that other people make, thinking we have to bend to their will to be a good person. I have a different world view than many of my friends and family. And finally, I’ve made my peace with it.

My life is for me, not you

  I’m not going to reject myself for being who I am anymore. And because of that, I am going to keep moving forward. My best days are continually forthcoming, because I’ve decided to trust and allow my own healing to be.

  When I look back on the sick and broken person I used to be, and in some ways, will always be, I’m not going to be angry and rejecting anymore, as far as I can help it. I am thankful for all those fragmented, hurting parts of my experience. They gave me true wisdom and information to build the best parts of my life today, and will continue to do so for the rest of my life.

  If you’re in the middle of your own nightmare, you don’t have to be in this place of expansion and gratitude to be healing. But I want you to know that it’s possible. I got there. And by accepting parts of you, you could start a similar journey. You are beautiful, you are brave, and you are strong, no matter what others may think or expect of you.