Living a Story

"All the darkness in the world cannot drown out the light of a single match."

My Vices

Two of my vices are my eating disorder and self-harm.  Two addictions.  Two things that could threaten my life.  I have been battling these things for a very long time.  Been to treatment more than once.  Have fought to overcome them with all the strength I have.

Have I overcome them?  I have definitely made a lot of progress.  I have grown and I have come to understand what they mean and why I struggle with them.  I have come to see their roots, why they developed, and what they have been trying to cover up.  I have learned how to let them go, why I need to let them go.  I am beginning to understand that life is so much fuller and richer without them.  I am beginning to understand that I will thrive without them.  That I can achieve my dreams, find success and connection, feel fulfilled.  I know all of these things.  I have let go of a lot of my maladaptive coping skills.  But there are a couple that I am holding onto.  There are a couple I am keeping in my back pocket to pull out if I need to.

Self-harm, my eating disorder, my walls and disconnection from myself – all of these things helped me survive when I was younger.  My core beliefs that I am bad and unlovable helped me to survive as well.  They helped me make sense of the world.  Explained why certain things happened.  Made me feel in control.  Made me feel like I understood what was happening.  I now call these things my maladaptive coping skills.  For though they helped me then, they are blocking the very things I long for now.  How did self-harm help me survive, you might ask?  How did my eating disorder help me survive?  Both of these things made me feel numb.  They made me feel numb when I was experiencing such an overwhelming amount of emotions, confusion, and pain.  Emotions and pain that I did not know what to do with as a child.  Emotions and pain that I had no other way to cope with.  So as a child, I created these maladaptive coping skills to help get me through.  I built my walls and disconnected from myself.  Disconnected from the pain.  Disconnected from my heart.

I am learning to reconnect now.  I am learning how to cope with my pain and feelings in healthy ways.  I am learning that it is ok to have emotions and to feel pain.  I am learning that this is what makes me human.  But I am also discovering that there is a part of me that doesn’t want to let go of my maladaptive coping mechanisms.  There is a part of me that is afraid to.  Afraid that I won’t survive without them.  Afraid of who I will become.  Of what could happen.  I long to be whole and healthy.  I long to let people in and be fully known.  I long to take my walls down.  I am learning to take my walls down.  I am learning to let go of my maladaptive coping mechanisms.  I can feel myself becoming more free.  But there is a part of me that won’t let go of the last little bit of them.  There is a part of me that is still holding on to them.  Afraid to let go completely.  There is a part of me that wants to hold them close.  Rationalizing that it’s ok to keep these last small ones because I have let go of so many.  Fear is causing me to want to keep them close.  Fear of who I am becoming.  Fear of who I will be without them.  Fear of the progress I could make.  This is where I am right now.  Knowing that I need to fully let go of these old coping mechanisms.  Knowing that I need to take them off the table and no longer allow them to be an option.  But afraid to.  This is where I am right now.

Am I Worth the Price Tag of Recovery?

Am I worth the thousands of dollars that have been spent for my recovery?  Thousands of dollars on therapy, psychiatry, treatment.  Thousands of dollars on medicine and appointments.  Am I worth it?  Is my recovery worth it?  I feel this burden.  This financial burden.  I feel guilty.  I feel responsible.  I feel like it is my fault.  I feel like if I had just tried harder all this money would not have needed to be spent.  I feel weak.  I feel angry.  I do not feel like I am worth thousands and thousands of dollars.  What makes it harder is that the money spent was not all mine.  Much of it was from family members who knew that I could not pay it on my own.  And I feel so guilty.  I feel like I have stolen their money.  Wasted it.  Squandered it.  If I had just been strong enough to recover on my own then this money would not have needed to be spent.  Thousands and thousands of dollars.  The things that this money could have gone towards.  Vacation, fun, adventure.  Instead of spending this hard earned money on pleasurable things, it was spent on me. The weak one.  The one who couldn’t get her shit together.  The one who needed help.  I feel like I don’t deserve this help.

I feel all this pressure to do well now.  Is the money going somewhere?  Is it being useful?  Is it helping?  Well yes, if it wasn’t for the thousands of dollars that allowed me to go to therapy and treatment, I probably wouldn’t be alive right now.  So yes, the money is helping.  But what if I relapse?  What if I slip?  What if I slide backwards?  Will I have wasted this money then?  Would I have made none of this worth it?  Will I make them angry?  I feel like I must continue to do well so the ones who have helped me pay for therapy and treatment are happy with where their money has gone.  I feel the pressure not to mess up.  Not to waste what they have given me.

Is it my fault I struggle with mental illness?  Is it my fault I need help?  Is it my fault I needed therapy and treatment and that I might continue to for a while?  No.  Mental illness is nobody’s fault.  It is a disease just like cancer or diabetes and ‘trying harder’ will not make it miraculously disappear just like ‘trying harder’ does not make cancer or diabetes disappear.  No, it takes time.  It takes medicine and treatment just like any other disease.  It takes money to pay for this medicine and treatment just like any other disease.  I think the invisibility of mental illness often makes people forget that it is a disease.  It often causes me to forget.  I often blame myself for having a mental illness.  I blame myself for struggling.  But when someone is born with another life threatening diseases is it their fault?

I feel the financial burden of my recovery.  I hate it.  I wish it wasn’t there.  I wish money hadn’t needed to be spent on it or on me.  But the truth is, I was born with a disease.  A disease in my mind.  And it takes money and it takes treatment and it takes help to recover from it.  I am getting that help.  I am getting that support.  I am still alive because of it.  Others may not understand.  In fact, most people do not realize what goes in to the process of recovering from a mental illness.  But I do.  And I know that it is worth it.  I know that the money spent has been worth it.  I am getting my life back.  I am coming alive.  And it is worth it.  You cannot place a price tag on someone’s life.  Not ever.  It doesn’t matter who the person is or how much money it is.  You cannot place a price tag on someone’s life.  Do I hate that this money has been spent on me?  Yes.  But I am getting my life back.  And you cannot place a price tag on that.