This is a post without pictures.
And if you spend millions on rehab, you still can't prevent the relapse.
My friend was ranting to me on Thursday. "He's still an addict. Even after he went to rehab twice. Rehab's expensive, you know. Now his parents have trouble making house payments. And after all this, he's still an addict. He's so selfish!" It was the word "selfish" that stood out like it was bolded on the page. I tried to defend him. Tell her about the reality of addiction. Tried to justify it in my own head. But I couldn't get the word "selfish" off of my clothes and it seemed to embody me more and more by the second.
Especially because I've relapsed the last two Saturdays.
I'm sorry, Mom.
The art of hook-ups is the only fine art on which I could give a lecture. But I can't tell you anything about commitment. Except that I want it.
I'm sorry, Mom.
Weekends are the hardest. Depression is a slow killer. Depression is bleeding to death from a paper cut. The last thing I wanted to do was recite my list of coping skills. Even though you tried and tried to wake me up, convince me to get dressed, take a shower, eat something. Repeat.
I'm sorry, Mom.
I didn't go to church. And when the cousins came over, I barely asked about the baby. I didn't talk about the mission. About the marriage.
I'm sorry, Mom.
Yesterday, I wished I was dead. I hadn't prayed to Death in three weeks, and I was almost proud. Because you cried when I came clean about my suicide attempt.
I'm the sorriest about that. I'm not sorry I wanted to die. I'm not sorry I tried to make death come sooner than later. I'm sorry that you found out.
And I'm sorry I'm not great at apologies.
I think I forget to breathe when I read your posts because my stomach is so clenched and my brain is so haywire. You really do have a way with words. "stood out like it was bolded on the page"
ReplyDeleteYour words pierce. you are worth talking about.
ReplyDeleteYou make me want to cry (read: I cried). I want to make it better for you. I really do. I'm here, though. I really am. And if you wrote a novel, I would buy copies until my bank account ran dry.
ReplyDeleteWow. Absolutely amazing.
ReplyDelete"I'm sorry, mom"
You remind me of my friend. Just like I wish for her, I wish I could take all of your pain and throw it away. But it's not that simple, isn't it?
ReplyDeleteI found a new one:
ReplyDeleteBOOM3R
also,
Delete"I couldn't get the word "selfish" off of my clothes"
"The art of hook-ups" and "Depression is bleeding to death from a paper cut."
ReplyDeleteThank you for making it real.
This hurt me to read. So real. I'm with Alis, I cried.
ReplyDeleteI hold my breath every time my eyes are about to see your words. Except it's not really just my eyes. My mind. My heart. I'm sorry I never leave comments but I'm speechless staring for the longest time. Utterly struck. I haven't felt this much overwhelming pain in words. This much fear. This much beauty. This much reality. All at once. And I've wished and hoped, more than anything since I discovered that you aren't just another girl I went to middle school with, that you're okay. But hoping and wishing don't do much and I'm sorry. I need you to know that you're a hero to me. You're raw and real and beautiful and your writing is everything. I'm almost convinced you're part extraterrestrial because it's out of this world. You've got heart and you've got strength and so much more. Thank you. :)
ReplyDeleteI'm really sorry this is so terribly long.
DeleteThat actually meant a lot to read that. I wish more comments were like yours, so don't be sorry. Now I'm curious who you are since we went to middle school together. Ha :) And in response to your hoping and wishing, some days I'm okay and some days I'm not. It's a process right now. But knowing that there are people like you that care about "just another girl in middle school" gives me hope.
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