You feel bipolar. This morning you woke up refreshed, giddy, assured. Tonight, you’re a mess. Dark, desperate, insecure.
You will feel bipolar for many months. Trust me. Just when you think it’s over, it’s not. Your bliss will be shattered by stabbing pain that chokes you.
The thoughts are evil voices in your head. Sick obsessions that you have to shake off but can’t. You can’t communicate with the little devils. You shouldn’t answer their questions, even though you formulate your answers:
“Yes, she’s prettier.”
“No, I wish I hadn’t met him.”
“Yes, I’m sure they’re dating already.”
“No, she can have him. I’m done.”
“Yes, I’ll be okay someday.”
“No, I’m done with relationships.”
You fear falling asleep and recalling the nightmares when you wake up. But you have to admit, the dream of punching him in the face was worth remembering.
Emotional stability is a thing of the past. You latched onto it briefly, and here you are, back to daily uncertainty. A briefcase full of emotions that seem to appear out of nowhere.
The questions you ask yourself everyday are crushing. Your thoughts are eating you alive. Without positive thoughts, you’ll waste away.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry that no matter how thick your armor, you cannot shield yourself from the pain. Time does nothing but dull the wounds, scar the cuts, yellow the bruises. It can never be erased. You will carry it with you for the rest of your life.
And that terrifies you. You are scared that you’re the girl who needs fixing. The girl who’s broken. The girl who’s fucked up. Yes, that is maybe what you are right now.
You’re in recovery. You experience triggers every day, and right now, your reactions are negative. Music, movies, and television shows centered around relationships are intolerable. It must be anti-love or avoid the theme altogether. You almost gag at any mention of his too-common first name. Discussions of relationships in general give you snarky thoughts.
Recovery is torture. It’s a jagged path of glass. Every day you stumble along it, walking until you have to crawl. Your whole body is bloodied, and even then, it’s not over. The cuts that begin healing will reopen. Over and over.
Not only do you not believe in love (romantic love), but you also believe it to be a joke. A sick joke. Maybe a trick. Bigger than just a lie. An over two-year long April Fools.
You feel duped. Scammed. The girl who believed she won the lottery, if she only mail in a payment of $500. You wait for the big money, and while everyone is telling you it’s a scam, you don’t believe it.
Yes, you were tricked. Scammed. The butt of the joke.
I’m sorry. I know you look in the mirror and feel like a joke, but you’re not. You didn’t deserve it.
One day, your thoughts will evolve. You’ll learn to replace every “Why?” with “Who cares?” Every “What did I do?” with “It wasn’t my fault.” Every “I’m not good enough” with “I’m good enough for myself.”
One day, you won’t roll your eyes. One day, you won’t be haunted. Yes, it will take months, but it is in your future.
I know most of your thoughts are centered around “her.” You can’t help wondering what she had to make him sleep with her, to lie to you, and to keep him running back to her for more.
Newsflash: it doesn’t matter. None of it.
What does matter?
Your smile, your body, your mind, your future, your emotional well-being, your physical well-being, your self-worth. All the aspects encompassing your relationship with yourself matter. Currently, all of those things are in jeopardy. And you know it.
You are rebuilding, learning, stumbling. You feel like a stranger trapped in your own body. You are ashamed and confused. You feel like a teenager having the classic “Who am I?” crisis.
Embrace that crisis. The past two and a half years, you forgot about you. Embrace this twisted but necessary opportunity to get to know yourself again.
Someday, you may meet someone. But please, keep your armor on. Wear your mask. At the FIRST sign of bullshit, RUN. The days of being nice are over.
Don’t, under any circumstances, feel obligated to be nice to someone who gives you bad vibes. Too much kindness is a sign that you are weak, and you cannot allow anyone to take advantage of you.
“His” words mean nothing. “I love you,” “I want to marry you,” “I’m not seeing anyone,” and “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world” was all code for “I’m a liar.” Yes, it’s a slap in the face, and he scammed you. No, that does not make you an idiot. Or gullible.
You trusted him. A mistake, yes. But if you do meet someone who could possibly be worth your time, don’t trust him immediately. I’m sorry to be a bitch, but after the fire you escaped, trust is no longer given. It is earned. This means you are a realist, a skeptic, and cautious until he has proven to be respectful, worth your time, honest, and kind. Those qualities are things you’ve neglected to search for in the past. Now, you won’t.
All that matters is you. Not her, not him. Thoughts of them are only keeping you prisoner. I know you can’t forget, and you never will. But as every second ticks by, you are one second closer to being “okay.” To being “moved on.” To hopefully being “happy.” And I mean genuine, self-accepting, contented happy. The happiness that only grows from a healthy relationship with oneself.
Right now, make that your mission. Allow positive thoughts to enter your mind because bullying yourself will only drive you further into darkness. Please.
Just know that you deserve to BE. You deserve to be confident. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to love your body, your mind, and your flaws. You deserve to be surrounded by people who mean what they say, appreciate you, and truly love you. You deserve to one day live without fear of being hurt, mistreated, or used.
Most importantly, you deserve to look in the mirror with pride in who you see. You deserve to live with yourself not as a stranger trapped in this body, but proud of it. You deserve to accept who you are, and accept that you will be okay someday.