september 13th, 2019

it would be nice. to hear your voice, and believe that it’s all right. because my head feels like it’s melting. and i don’t know what to believe. and it would be nice to not feel this way, for a while, okay? to not feel… alone. or empty. or… like a castle, crumbling to pieces. or like a girl who can’t stop tearing herself to pieces, because it’s habit. and because rather than playing with toys in the basement like a normal kid you had an illness. and now maybe now do you understand why it hurts like this? why it’s so hard to let go like this? and why i can’t even step out of my room without having a panic attack like this? like this? like this? and it would be really nice to not hate myself so much all the time. or to have any idea what’s going on inside my head. or to be able to maintain a stable social interaction, but obviously… that’s not going to happen. at least… not this time. because that’s the thing about mental illness, isn’t it?  if you get a broken leg, you can put it in a cast. and if you get the flu, there’s a shot for that. but there are no surgeries to fix a childhood spent believing you’re worthless. there is no instant cure. there is no miracle fix. even if people can listen. and help. and hold your hand, for however long they have. and give you hugs, and suggestions, and make you feel okay for the first time in ages. but this is my fight. this will always be my fight. and no one else can change that.


i think the thing about getting help is–before you actually get it, at least for me, it had this kind of mythic status in my head. once i got help, i would be okay. i would be normal. i would be cured. just like that. i don’t think it’s like that. therapy helps. it really does help. but it helps you fix yourself. going to therapy is work. maybe i’ve always thought of it like a medical surgery–like something i just had to lie still and wait for the anesthesia to kick in for. but it’s not like that. it’s the opposite. going to therapy is like operating on yourself while fully conscious. therapy is relearning everything you ever thought was true about yourself. and i can’t say how much that has helped. but in the end… you still have to choose what you do with that. no one else can fight the battle for you. they can only support you in it.


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