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I just realized today that on the 11th, I will be 9 months sober. No one around me even knows. I’m sure that they have guessed, or had some sort of an idea that something was going on, but no one has any idea of how truly terrible it got. I had spent my entire life trying so very hard to be the person I was “supposed to be”. Get the grades, get the job, never stop, keep working as hard as you can and you will get to a place of happiness. I had struggled and overcome, struggled and overcome, for pretty much my entire life. And yet somehow, no matter how hard I was trying, it never seemed to get easier. Slowly, I started to give up. I believe that it began on a subconscious level far before it ever came through on a cognitive scale. I was just so, so tired. Then I lost my insurance and could no longer get my medication. And from there, it just imploded. I hit a level of depression that I never even knew was possible. I became a person that I did not know existed. I turned to drugs without even realizing it..and then it was too late. I was too far in at that point and, honestly, I didn’t even care anymore. I didn’t want to feel, didn’t want to try, didn’t want to care. I didn’t want to BE anymore. I wanted to be gone; after all, at this point, I felt as though I was gone already. I have been low before, but I have never experienced anything like this. I was just so, so tired. And then it just continued to get worse (shocking, I know). I saw no other way out than death, and frankly, I welcomed it.
And then...hope. My best friend came and pulled me out of where I was, both physically and mentally. She got me out of the environment I was in, and away from the people who had been dragging me down for so long. She reminded me of what it felt like to be loved and cared for. She reminded me what it felt like to care about myself again. She reminded me how it felt to be happy. I started to listen to music again, to sing for the first time in a year. She gave me my will to live back. Thank god for her...I truly do not know how I would have been able to see again without her. Because of her, I began to try to pull myself back together, and to build my life up again. I had so much shame and guilt for my choices. But honestly? It is what it is. I fucked up. I tried for so long to be so good...and then I broke. I dropped my basket...but is one year of bad choices worth all of the others? And all of the ones in the future? Should I hate myself for all the rest of my years because of that one? Or do I stand back up, learn, grow, and make sure that I never give up again? I think the latter. 9 months later, I look around and am just so grateful. I have worked my butt off, and now I feel as though I can be proud. I fell apart, but I also put myself back together again. Perhaps it took me breaking into a thousand pieces to build into the me that I am now. And if that’s the case, I’d have to say it was worth it. So, here is to all of the pain and suffering of that year, and to all of the lessons it gave me. And with that in the rear view mirror, here is to the rest of my life.
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*whispers* Congratulations! ❤🌹
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