I don't know why - maybe it's human nature - but as soon as people hear the word "better", they automatically assume "well".
And, for the record, better does not mean well.
I was better - I was so much better - after camp. I trusted God, my friends, my family, heck, my life!
So how did I wind up, three months later, drowning under the screams that everyone would be far better off if I were dead?
Fall Out Boy captures it pretty well.
"My heart is like a stallion, they love it more when it's broken".
And, I've realized it's true. The sad awful reality, and part of why I loathe my depression as much as I do, is that, while, yes, I needed you when I was cutting, burning, overdosing, purging, starving...I needed you to point me to the light, and remind me that things get better....I need you far more when I'm not harming, starving, overdosing, purging, etc.
Because, before, if life got overwhelming, I at least had my old destructive habits to run back to! I often wouldn't even talk to you until after I'd cut, burned, overdosed...
I passionately believe that it is the power of love - God's and people's - that alone can save someone who is hurt and hurting.
But, I've also come to wonder if, the reason so many people 'fail' at recovery, is because, as soon as their friends, relatives, etc hear the words 'recovery' or 'better', they...don't stop caring...but perhaps stop expressing that care.
And much as it pains me to admit it - for several reasons, not the least of which, is that it sounds awfully selfish - I need your love, I need your care, I need your support and encouragement and affirmation more in recovery than I ever did when I was sick!
Because, like it or not, recovery sucks. It's much more difficult than destroying myself, for sure, and if all your gentleness disappears with my announcement that I'm 'better', then, instead of being able to turn to you with the small things before they become big things, I'll hold them all in for fear of bothering you, and then, when I finally do explode, it won't be pretty.
If you used to actually seem like you cared about me while I was destroying myself, and then, now, take about fifteen giant steps back, what am I supposed to think?
If you don't engage on topics other than how much I really want to give up, then I'll not go to you when I do, and if I do, I'll hate myself for going to you, and before long, I'll be convinced that you wouldn't care if I were dead, either, because nothing makes me feel like a burden faster than if you only talk to me, only care, when I'm falling apart!
And I hate, hate, hate, how abominably selfish that sounds, and I know that part of it is absolutely my fault for being as stubborn as I am, and how firmly I refuse sometimes to lean on anyone else, but if you only love me when I'm breaking, and spend the rest of your time trying to distance yourself from me on all social media, pretending I don't exist, and ignoring my texts....
I can absolutely see why 'lack of support' is listed as number 1 under reasons for failed recovery.
And I don't want to fail this time. I've failed far too many times, far too much, Nor is this an attempt to blame anyone. I take full responsibility for the times I've caved, but, by the same token, if it has taken me this long to learn to trust my friends' love and care, and then, almost all the outward signs of it disappear?
I don't know.
There's got to be a better way.
There just has to.
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