Life After Death 101

I'm not going to lie...I got lucky.

I still can't tell you what happened, entirely. All I know is that I was trying to die, and then I wasn't. For 21 years, there's been this underlying self-hatred in me that I couldn't figure out. Two years ago, I saw the demise of my dignity, my innocence, my self-respect, and all that I counted safe. My will to live had gone to shit. And then, I started getting better. What the dripping fuck. 
     
      I do know this: that on Sunday 2 weeks ago, I was driving around looking for a place to die. I was resigned and determined. I was numb and I was going to end it. And I know something else, too: without a select group of my friends, I would without a doubt be fucking dead right now. 
     So thank you guys, you friends of mine who got me here. Holydumbfuck. I wish I had words and actions enough to show you what you've done. I'm fucking happy to be alive now. I feel safe again. I LIKE myself. I wish I could fucking thank you properly for this. 

     Healing is a confusing territory. You look at your eyes in the mirror and start to say what you've always said, "You're fucking worthless." You look at your body, "You're fucking damaged." You look at your friends and family and think, "I don't fucking deserve you." You look at your life and say, "I don't deserve that either." But then you stop yourself, because you can't say that shit with any conviction anymore. It's so strange opening your eyes and looking at the same ceiling you've been staring at for years and not thinking, "Why the hell did I wake up?" It feels ok to laugh, and to smile. When people say, "You're beautiful," it doesn't hurt anymore. And you can look yourself in the eye for quite possibly the first time and know that somewhere in there is a kid who deserves a fucking chance. 

    Yes, there will be bad days, days where what you knew before seems safer than what you know now. There will be days for me where I will want to hide, there will be times when the memories are too much and I throw up or pass out. There will be moments when I look at myself and don't like what I see. I will still get scared around people who are angry because I'm waiting for them to hit me.  It will seem safer for me to become the sick girl I was before. But you and I, we just have to remember that nothing good ever comes easy. Healing doesn't. I hit the fucking bottom before I got where I am now. But that makes it all the sweeter when you look back. And in the end, it's so much better not to be afraid. It's so much better. 

I have to remember to keep working. Keep moving on. Keep getting better. After all, I'm still alive, right? Where there's life, there's hope. 


Hang on,
Ness