Tricky Transitions
Three years ago, I would have never imagined my life as it is right now. In fact, there was nothing to really imagine. I didn’t have any ideas about the future. The future felt like a burden and life in general seemed like a chore. Getting through each day was like pushing against a pile of bricks that were too heavy for me to move. I felt tired all the time, exhausted by my own continued existence. Since life felt an abyss of gloom, I often focused on trying to feel “good”. I would claw at opportunities to get hits of dopamine. I was revolved around the avoidance of pain, desperate for something other than the constant misery. So, I would make decisions without thinking about the consequences. It was all about the now because that’s all there was. I didn’t care about how it would affect me a month from then let alone ten years from then. None of it mattered, there was nothing to look forward to.
The me back then was deeply lonely. I was the person who always had friends around yet never felt connected to anyone. I would often feel like everyone around me was moving and twisting while I was standing frozen, just watching. The truth is, I didn’t want to share anything with anyone. I didn’t realize that connection and vulnerability go hand in hand. I was guarded and hiding and scared. I didn’t want people to see through the bubbly mask I wore. I didn’t want the damage and internal turmoil to be exposed. Who would want to love the sad girl? The angry girl? The anxious girl? So I pretended. I lied to everyone (including myself) about how badly I was doing. I was in constant states of self-sabotage because I truly did hate myself.
To be honest, I ended up where I am now by chance. By one set of events leading to others. I met someone who was honest with me. Someone who saw through the barriers I kept up and who told me the truth. Someone who offered me a helping hand. Someone who dared to love me. I am a stubborn person and I fought my way through their love. But I think there was a part of me that heard that truth even if I didn’t want to. And that was a step in a different direction. It changed my life course and shifted the planes of my depression. I started to see other ways, other options. It was terrifying but it was real.
I find myself now living in a house with five other people who love me every day. Five people who see me cry all the time. Who see me have panic attacks and meltdowns. They help me see the positive side when I’m stuck in my negative patterns of thinking. They listen to me when my brain is screaming and offer me reassurance when the anxiety thoughts look real. I don’t know if I would have gotten here without that support. In fact, I kind of doubt I would have. But being seen, even if that looks messy and ugly sometimes is better than pretending. I feel more connection and love now than I even could have imagined three years ago.
Healing can be tough, I can’t deny that. I didn’t realize how much I had to heal from. The wounds I have are real and I deepened them through my own self sabotage. But it’s never too late to start taking steps forward. I take things slow now. I try to handle each day as it comes. I offer myself love and kindness when I’m struggling. I do my best to forgive myself when I make mistakes. I’m no longer in states of perpetual overwhelmed. My life isn’t necessarily “exciting” but it’s loving. I see so much hope in this home I have built with this little, chosen family. I am happy to be me. I am thankful to be rebuilding and healing. This is life folks. Messy, beautiful, wonderful, chaotic life.
-WhimsyCat