I don’t really know what to write here anymore. I’m doing better most of the time. I have bad days, but they’re just bad days, not bad weeks or months or years. I had a bad week a little while ago, and it seemed so awful to last that long. And I did get to a pretty dark place. But then it was over. I realized that maybe the reason it freaked me out so much is that it had been so long since I had a week of solid bad.
It’s like that, now. I’m finally on antidepressants that are actually helping. I’ve also worked through a lot of stuff, and I’m beginning to actually want to live.
I started this blog because I needed an outlet. I needed somewhere that my voice could be heard and listened to, even if I didn’t have the courage to speak aloud to my closest friends and family. Journaling tended to frustrate me, because it was like writing to a wall. Sometimes it was good to get the stuff out, but I needed someone, anyone, on the other end, listening. I needed to share my pain. It was in sharing that I began to find healing. So… windwhisperings. All the thoughts and dreams and tremblings I had whispered to the wind, alone and unheard up to that point, except by God and the wind itself. It helped so much to write about pain and loneliness and quirkiness and addictions and realize I wasn’t alone. All the likes, comments, and follows were the beginning of the affirmation and empathy I needed.
I think all my closest friends know about this blog, now. I’ve used it at times to show what I’m feeling and going through, when I can’t put it all into audible words. Somehow the written word is safer to the suffering mind than stumbling, stuttering conversation. There were times when I couldn’t trust myself to get the words out, before crying shut them off. So I shared a post or two from here. Windwhisperings became a bridge that helped me to begin communicating and being vulnerable.
Vulnerability sucks. It is truly one of the most painful things I’ve ever experienced. It’s like not only shedding your clothes to expose yourself in all your flaws and beauty… it’s ripping your skin off to show what’s underneath. But when I was vulnerable, I found strength. I exposed myself to dear friends and found that I was not judged or mocked or rejected. I was loved and accepted and forgiven. They validated my pain, and they validated me. They treated me like an equal. They respected me. They even told me over and over again that because of what I’d been through and faced, I could be such a help and inspiration to others who struggle. They helped me keep going.
There was one night at the residential treatment place, where I showed my wrist to a woman I loved and respected very much, when I had just cut it that day. She was one of those people that I was almost completely sure of her love. But I wasn’t sure she’d still love me then. It took all the strength in me and I don’t know how many tries before I finally got the words out. I couldn’t look her in the eye as I asked if she still loved me.
She did. And does.
Vulnerability opened me up to healing. I had to expose myself to possible rejection and pain to expose myself to possible acceptance and healing. It was, and is, terrifying. But I do it.
I am healing. Of course I’m not all better… I’ve still got a LONG way to go. But I’ve also come a long way already, and that encourages me.
I don’t feel like killing myself every day. I don’t plan it out in detail anymore.
I actually want to do things, now. I want to get up and move and make things and get stuff done.
Small rejections and disappointments don’t devastate me anymore. They’re awful, and I still tend to handle them in unhealthy ways, but they don’t destroy me to the point where I have to start at square one again. I can maybe start at square two.
I can point to so many victories that I’ve made over the past month or two. Victories over self hate, purging, cutting, suicide, shutting down.
As many times as I fall, I know now that I can get up again, and that, I think, makes it a bit easier.
Maybe I don’t need to use this blog as an outlet so much anymore. Or at least, maybe that won’t be its sole purpose. Maybe I will write about the things I’m learning and growing in. Maybe it can be an encouragement to others on their journeys through recovery.
Of course, now that I say that, I’ll probably use it as an outlet more than ever. Haha. But if that’s what I need it for, so be it. It doesn’t change the fact that I really am doing so much better these days. I am thankful for how I’ve grown through this, and excited to see how I grow more.
Love to you all, friends!