It has come to my attention that I'm surrounded by a lot of strong, powerful people who don't know how strong and powerful they are. If you're reading this now, that's you. I'm talking to you. I see a lot of positive sounding posts from people who have broken down crying when I've asked how they're doing. I've been supported lately, and always, by people who I *know* are struggling themselves and if you're one of those people, thank you. I've learned, through the recovery process and dealing with my own mental illness, that people tend to hold back the bad stuff. People don't proudly project their pain - they shove it down and cover it up. They pretend everything is okay, often suffering in silence, until they break. The self-destruction is very real and very dangerous.
Bad things happen to good people and the good people blame themselves for it. Loyal hearts get played. People cry themselves to sleep some nights and show up to work with a smile the next morning. I've done it, I've worked beside people as they've done it, and I've answered calls from my family as they've had to do it too.
"Survival mode" is a term that's been tossed around in the mental health world a lot and if that's where you are, that's nothing to be ashamed of.
The world has been cold and complicated lately. Winters in a pandemic are particularly hard. And the truth is, I don't know how bad or good you've had it. I don't know if you've had help, or how lonely you are, or what a walk in your shoes is like. But I do know that I've been needing to remind myself of the things I'm about to write, and there's a good chance you need to hear them too. I hope the following helps.
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I'm so, so proud of you.
I don't know what your last "win" was, big or small. I don't need to. Maybe it was just getting out of bed. Maybe it was getting dressed, reading a chapter of the book that's been on your shelf forever, or doing one of the many things on your to-do list. Maybe you spoke your truth through tears. Maybe today is your first day of getting sober. Maybe you just... survived. Whatever you did, or are doing, or are trying to do - I'm proud of you. Survival isn't easy. Living isn't either. You are doing a great job. Keep going.
And also, thank you.
Thank you for showing up when you do. For showing kindness and grace to others. For smiling at strangers under your mask to make the weight of the pandemic feel lighter. Thank you for the work you do and the grit you do it with. Thank you for being gentle with yourself and with each other. Thank you for being patient in an extremely nerve-wracking world. For washing your hands, for laughing when you get the chance, for being quick to forgive, and for being genuine. Thank you for continuing to have hope and to dream about better days, because they will come and that's a promise.
Your bravery is admirable.
You're recovering from some rough shit and you're doing a great job. Maybe you're in the middle of a divorce or maybe you're just finally walking away from whatever is toxic to you. You're taking risks. You're going after your goals and having the hard conversations. You're becoming more and more willing to leave the things that are familiar to you behind because you're learning how to set your boundaries and respect yourself. That's another very difficult thing to do and here you are - you're doing it. Day by day, you're starting to realize how powerful you are. You're healing, you're growing, you're letting go of what you don't need, you're hurting but you're discovering your strength and I hope you know how much that matters.
The progress that you're making... it isn't being overlooked.
Healing is not an easy process. Some days you feel great, and like you have everything under control, and like everything is finally good. Next thing you know, you can be on your knees crying and wondering how you're going to make it through whatever it is you're dealing with. Sometimes therapy helps and it's empowering, other times you leave feeling guilty and messier than your world was when you walked in. Relationships are hard. Recovery is hard. Real discussions about what you're going through are hard. There's always someone telling you that you should get over it or not care, and I hope you're strong enough to be able to tune those voices out. Trust can be hard when you're un-learning trauma responses you've dealt with since you were young, but that doesn't excuse you from the work.
You have to ask the hard questions, you have to be willing to sound weak and you have to be bold even when it comes to your insecurities. Honesty is a superpower you possess, all you have to do it use it as often as you check your phone.
Oh, and you don't have to apologize for everything. I know that can be hard to believe.
Not everything is your fault. Apologize when you know you've messed up or done wrong - but leave it at that. A miscommunication isn't entirely your fault, so don't put all the blame on your own shoulders. Give yourself some grace. Apologize sincerely, only when you really think or know that you owe one. When people hurt you, tell them why you're hurt. Don't blame them for it when they don't know what they did wrong.
Expose. Your. Wounds. Those are three of the best words my therapist has ever told me.
Do not hide them because they're ugly. Don't keep them wrapped up because you're afraid of someone seeing a fault in/on you.
If it's too much for people, they'll leave. And that's okay. If they leave when you're raw and real with them, they weren't right for you anyway. Speak your truth and don't you dare self-censor. Don't redact your reality. Live it, breathe it, be open with it.
Family isn't about who is blood-related to you. Family is about who is willing to bleed beside you. Read that again, and then read it one more time.
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Where did all of this come from? Why am I writing this now? When I told people I was drafting this piece, those were the kinds of questions I got. Here's the best answer I have.
The last two years of my life have been some of the hardest, for reasons I will and will not talk about. Some of the people I trusted more than anything hurt me in ways I wish I had the words for.
When traumatic things happen to you when you're in your twenties, and you tell people about it, people assume you're old enough to shrug it off. That you have enough good things going for you to make up for whatever the loss is. That you're able to just close old doors and never even think about looking back. But they're wrong, and for the longest time I've wondered why people act like age has anything to do with an ability (or inability) to manage emotion.
I've had support and I'm endlessly grateful for that, but I've also had to be there for myself more than ever. What I've shared with you tonight is a list of the lessons I've learned from it, because it consists of the things I wish people would've told me before I had to learn them from experience.
I didn't write this post to tell you my own story or to be relatable. I've written this because it's the best way I know to use what has hurt me to help someone else. If that person is you, I hope you know in your heart how capable you are of overcoming. You are stronger than your circumstances.
One of the hardest parts of facing things like depression head on is that a lot of the time, you just have to let the waves flood you. If you know what that's like, I'm so sorry - but know that you are not alone. It's okay to logically know how you should feel, and to not be able to get there. It's okay to let yourself feel things even if they aren't rational or make no sense whatsoever. It's okay to feel a lot all at once, or to not know how you feel at all. It's okay to struggle through it. It's okay to ride it out.
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Celebrate the tiniest victories. You don't need special occasions.
You're allowed to mess up.
You can speak your truth or suffer in silence, but the choice is all yours.
You don't have time for people who don't make time for you.
Doing everything on your own doesn't make you superhuman and getting help doesn't make you weak.
Some days just hurt.
Progress matters, popularity doesn't mean shit.
You will never be done learning.
Perfection isn't possible.
You're human. I'm human. We all are. And the best part of the human experience is that it's collective. A beautiful life can not be lived alone.
The best thing we can do is learn from, lean on and love one another.
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Writing this gave me the opportunity to be a shoulder for you, whether it be from 6 feet or 600+ miles away.
If I can do something that little from a laptop on the couch in my living room, imagine the incredible things you can do for yourselves. and the people in your life.
Now stop limiting it to your imagination. Light the fire. Make it real.
xox
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