This last month has been incredibly difficult for me. I try to hide it- but deep inside myself, I’m breaking silently. I’m staring straight into the heavens, begging for something/someone out there to make everything not so heavy.

It’s not that I believe the worst will always happen to me, it’s just this cycle never seems to end. I think I know what the catalyst was to make this perpetual chain reaction of events rain down on me, but even that notion gets lost in the echos of the endless corridors in my mind.

It doesn’t feel like I can just grab life and twist it in the ways I need life to work for me. I have no control, after all. What’s going to happen is GOING to happen. I don’t know if premonitions exist, or if I’m able to foreshadow what’s to come. At times I do get this gut feeling, this feeling of impending doom that washes over me like freezing water. I can’t get warm… why can’t I get warm?

And yet, I still wake up each day. I still pull the sheets down and get out of bed. Life hasn’t laid me down for good, no. Not today. I’m drawing this inner strength from somewhere within me. Perhaps I’m just going through the motions, as if I’m in autopilot. I know for a fact that’s what’s happening, actually. Although to some degree, I guess we’re all on autopilot, maybe some more than others. Even as I write this, my mind is elsewhere.

I have to give myself credit though. I’m so much better off than I was years ago… It will be 4 years tomorrow (Thanksgiving) from when I attempted suicide for the first time. 2014 was a rough year. It’s the year I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder, was hospitalized for a week, was in an intensive outpatient program for a month, worked at one of my favorite grocery stores for like 7 months, and then was terminated because I had a nervous breakdown and couldn’t leave my room for two weeks. I was a fucking mess. I reflect back on it now and I’m so proud of myself from having survived that brutally wretched time in my life.

I think it’s time to be thankful for myself and all that I’ve overcame.

I’m thankful for the strength I developed over time. I’m thankful for the resilience I carry with me even though I tend to minimize it. I’m even thankful to my demons, ghouls, monsters, and my internal madness that continuously chases me down. Without them, I wouldn’t be where I am or who I am today.

And every morning, I do my best to be thankful for opening my eyes, even in my darkest of times. I’m thankful for the rising sun that still hasn’t abandoned me, even though I curse it at times.

If you’ve been in a similar position as me, or suffer in some sort of way and are trying to pull yourself through that thick mud to try and escape- keep going. Keep fighting. Don’t ever stop. Your resilience WILL pay off. Don’t give up on yourself. I won’t give up on you, either. One day, you will be reflecting on this nightmare and will be so glad you survived it. It’s another beautiful scar to bear, and another story to tell.

Give thanks to yourself; you are your own hero/heroine, after all.

 

 

Happy Thanksgiving.

 

 

xoxo,

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