This post is really on a whim. I saw this post on Tumblr and went on a little in the tags. I felt compelled to post more about this on an impulse about my experience.
I may have mentioned this before, but I had lots of mental health issues growing up. I grew up with anger issues, anxiety, and some OCD. When I hit puberty I started questioning my gender identity (this was way before I even know being transgender was a thing) and I started having depression and self harmed a bit at the age of 12. Things went up and down from there, and things got really bad in 2012. The depression got worse, the dysphoria came, I had suicidal thoughts all the time, and I started self harming regularly. 2013 was the worst year of my life.
But the point isn’t to have a pity party. This post is about recovery. It took time. It really did. At first I didn’t even make a decision to recover initially. It was more like a “no promises” kind of thing. I’ve been addicted enough times to know that resolving to quit something (in my case, self harm) was setting the bar too high.
So I started with low expectations of myself. But it was gradual. Each day didn’t seem much different from the last. Little things happened, and I didn’t notice it during the way, but when I look back it seemed so much more obvious. Me telling my mother about my self harm, me getting a therapist, me not wanting to die for the first time in 2 years, me being 6 months clean.
So now am I perfectly normal and happy? Far from it. I still think I’m pretty fucked up and I want to go back to old habits. When that happens I remind myself I used to be even more fucked up and that wasn’t fun at all.
To any of you who are struggling with this right now, life isn’t a spiral of downs and more downs, though it really fucking feels like it sometimes. If there are downs, there are ups, and if you’re down now, you’re just saving the ups for the future so you can appreciate it more.
Alright, I think I’m done rambling. This is all I wanted to say for now.