"Remember that class I mentioned...? Yeah, I fucked that up already. Who was I kidding? Thinking I could pretend I wasn't a failure long enough to drag myself to a class three days a week for two whole months....The stress of this class is killing me.
The class is about to start. I'm sitting here. Shaking hands. Hyperventilating. Face soaked in tears. Bottle of wine beckoning me. Regretting that I dumped my arsenal of pills over the weekend. Those fucking glimpses of hope ruin everything."
I don't have the time to write a well thought out post. And I don't have the privacy to get emotional in what I write. But there is something I need to say:
I retract my previous statement. I am not a fuck up. I thank god I dumped those pills. And I say this as a certified peer support specialist. Yup, I finished the class I thought was beyond my capability.
Those "fucking glimpses of hope" may have given me a higher fall when shit hit the fan, but being raised up for that moment gave me a chance to see past the current hell I was in. Past the suicidal ideations. Past the cutting. Past the racing thoughts and psychotic episodes. I saw beyond to a future that included me, a productive me, a happy me.
And now I'm there. I proved myself wrong. For once I can honestly say that I'm proud of myself.
Short and Sweet.
No comments:
Post a Comment