Nothing about recovery is easy.
Recovery means you must revisit the traumatic things or events that led to your downward spiral.
You grow unfamiliar with your true self. You avoid, ignore & find ways to shove the problems back down. But in the end, I promise you that they catch up with you. It’s never one singular thing.
Some are insecurities that lie on the surface, but we all know those aren’t the real issues. Trust me when I tell you that it’s most certainly not your cellulite keeping you from going out. It’s not your teeth preventing you from laughing with your family.
Beneath those things are the real issues.
When you finally talk about them, they begin to have less power over you.
My years of self-neglect in law school, the fact that I didn’t properly grieve or accept my mom’s passing, the unrealistic standards I constantly strived for, the feeling of abandonment in my marriage & my divorce… these things happened. But they don’t define me.
I cannot suppress them & expect to live truthfully.
My illness was a symptom of my unwillingness to accept them & my desire to numb the trauma, until I realized that this delay tactic would only last for so long, until there was nothing left for it to last for.
No one can make these truths go away. The answer does not exist in someone else. There comes a time where YOU have to say to yourself that it’s time to pull it together. Then, you work for it. These things only control you so long as you let them, much like the people who hurt you.
Talking about it is like ripping off a bandaid. You’re hesitant, it stings, but the wound inevitably needs exposure to fully heal.
For so long, I was afraid to say it, not because I felt threatened by what people would think but because I was afraid of facing my truth.
Nobody is ever going to say magic words that’ll make you snap out of it.
But truth is, I didn’t do it all on my own. As much as I pretended I didn’t care for or need the nagging, the constant reminders that my life was falling apart, the paragraph-long texts that made me cry, the initial forced therapy appointments, the unexpected late-night family interventions, the hospital scares & the phone calls made behind my back to check up on me, I wouldn’t have made it here without them.
So yes, the will to recover came from ME, MYSELF & I, but that will didn’t magically appear. It came from the realization that not only was I destroying my life but that those who loved & cared for me were helplessly watching me self-destruct before their eyes.