Dear Dairy, 30, Who Am I

Dear Diary,

I appreciate you for bearing with me in this one, Diary. And for being patient in my absence, I wish I could have been here more.

I am here now, Diary, and that is all that matters.

I guess. I dunno. It has been, well, a messy time.

Sooooo, I kinda went some places for Day 30. I hit on some heavy stuff in this one, too. Please be aware there are elements of self-harm and substance abuse. Please, if you or someone you know have these feelings, please let someone know. Like now! Go, please! Or reach out here. Please. Don’t suffer alone! It is not worth it, and you are more than worth seeking help.

I love you!

***

It has been three or four or five or six years since I hit bottom. Not too sure anymore.

SO much has happened.

I’ve come to realize the layers of hitting bottom are way more dynamic than expected. For me, it was not like hitting a hard ground where all the wind is knocked away.

Instead, hitting bottom like being on a trampoline.

I hit bottom only to bounce back in some way. I would usually have more stress, or trauma, or anxiety and depression on the way up. But, I would still find some new momentum to keep going.

But it was like launching myself into clouds full of new expectations and plans and ways to escape the life I was now stuck in. Like bouncing on a trampoline the next bounce always took me higher making the next fall that much more intense.

But the intensity was such that coming down ended up being a rush. It felt good in a really messed up way. If it didn’t feel so good addition wouldn’t be, well, so addictive.

It became my reality.

A reality that I needed to escape.

A reality that I wanted to escape.

A reality that I did not feel like I could escape.

A reality that was easier to inhabit than escape.

More on escape below.

The up and down journey makes for a lot of bumps and bruises while also creating less visible trauma.

And it never seemed like it was going to stop. I mean how does one find a graceful way to get off a trampoline mid-jump?

The only escape is to fall off entirely.

Then, that drop is even longer and the landing will hurt.

Hurt, like, really bad. Sometimes it is a fall we don’t get up from.

When I hit bottom the last time, it’s like I splashed into a deep river. I was tossed and tumbled in deep, cold water—raging water, pulled under by eddies in the rapids. Every time I struggled to the surface I would get just enough breath to keep alive before getting pulled back under again.

I just did not really have anything to live for except struggling for that next breath. I had no thoughts of tomorrow or the next day. I did not consider what my life looked like in a year.

Its f***** up, to not have anything to live for, but there was nothing to die for either. If I had felt differently, that last fall could have been really, really bad.

If these feelings sound familiar seek help, please.

You are worth it!

I love you!

***

After the fall, my reality was this cold purgatory half-drowning in guilt and shame. Either way, I had given up trying. The river even gave me gifts at times, feeling sorry enough for my poor, worn body to push me up for a few breaths.

They didn’t feel like gifts at the time, but the gifts kept me going through a haze of self-pity, self-doubt, and the feeling of worthlessness. I am grateful for them now.

There was substance abuse. There was self-harm. It dragged along for months on top of months with no end in sight.

And the kicker?

The escape from the bottom was not an escape.

I am still in that current of cold water. I just have the strength, ability, and tools to not drown. Sometimes I am even feeling like I’m a floating down this wonderfully terrible river.

The possibility of drowning remains a possibility.

The anxiety remains.

The depression remains.

The currents run strong and deep and cold.

And in fact, this past month I fell back in and had to struggle for my life. Lots of tears. Lots of sorrow. Lots of confusion. Bad confusion—confusion is not all bad.

It was exhausting.

I am still recovering.

I am scared.

I am still so vulnerable and fragile.

I inhaled a lung full of water, and I have spent the last few days coughing it back up.

I recognize now that people can incite my self-doubt and shame. They can make me feel hate for myself, resentment towards the life I have worked so hard to carve out for myself. Even if they don’t intend for their words and actions to impact me in this way.

It is funny how one toxic person, who prolly doesn’t even know they are toxic, can hold such power. With such ease and a few words cut my sense of self from me.

Deep resentment for my work, my self, and my body settled inside.

I doubted myself. I felt that hate for myself creeping back in.

It affected my work as I let those thoughts of escape back in.

I felt so lost! It was scary and dangerous. I feel grateful to have made it out. Not unscathed. But I made it out.

While I punished myself for my feels momentarily,I am really proud to say I was never tempted to go back towards the bottle. And there were no acts of self-harm attempted.

Still, I let it impact my relationships, my time, and my spaces that have resembled havens.

There were moments in October where not existing sounded pretty f****** delicious. Please, if you or someone you know have these feelings, please let someone know. Like now! Go, please! Or reach out here. Please. Don’t suffer alone! It is not worth it, and you are more than worth seeking help.

I love you!

***

Fortunately, there are a few really special people in my life who reminded me what is the most important. They reminded me why I matter.

Don’t get me wrong, October was not all bad. There are always simmering moments in the muck. I have found such a loving and supportive community, it is impossible to stay mad or vindictive. This whole thing is too short to care about those who do not wish me well.

It is why we must act with mindful care towards how we treat each other. No matter what. Respect, love, and gentle kindness for the self and others goes so far.

Life is too short.

But, it can also feel like a million years has passed in a moments time.

Life is terrifying

Life is opaque

Life is also joy and love

And, the joy in mourning is an amazingly confusing feeling. I am still sitting with this one, Diary. Maybe more on it later.

Once again thank you for being with me, and I am glad to be back, resting in the shade.

Life is pretty cool

More to come, promise