I was hurt.
I am hurt.
I am still hurting.
It has been such a process for me to come to the point of acceptance. To see my truth for what it is rather than what it is not.
I am not being dramatic, I am hurt.
I am not dysfunctional, I am mentally ill.
I am not the worst parts of myself, I am the parts that have yet to be discovered.
It takes so much courage to reach a point in yourself to face your demons. But to be honest, courage was the last thing I felt when I asked my therapist, “What is wrong with me?” The words felt like acid coming out of my mouth.
What encouraged me to ask the question was not courage – it was everything but.
Fear of not knowing what was happening to me.
Sadness of feeling utterly hopeless of not finding a cure.
Anger of not being able to control my own life for some unknown reason.
I guess you can call it courage for speaking up, but it’s hard to see it that way when you’re backed so far into a corner that you’re desperate to get out.
Depression, that’s what he diagnosed me with. A part of me knew that it was depression – hence the reason why I sought out a mental health professional – but a larger part of me constantly denied the truth because I was ashamed that I had let myself fall so far in life.
I now understand the truth of my situation and I’d be lying if I said it was easy to accept. It’s not.
It gets easier everyday, but somedays you want to throw anything and everything at the wall and cry, “Why me?”
Rage. Fear. Sadness. Shame. Hopelessness. Everything you try to accept gangs up on you and you’re suppose to welcome it with open arms.
Facing your demons is no easy task. But in small, micro steps, it can be manageable.
It starts by knowing your truth. Then understanding your truth. Then accepting your truth. Finally, you can move on and begin your new truth. One free of demons. Or, at least one where your demons don’t control you anymore. That, in my opinion, is courage.