Lost and Found

     in the beginning there was faith. faith in humanity, faith in myself, and above all faith and God. but throughout my journey to adulthood this faith quickly and quietly dissipated, and i believed it to be lost forever.
     i fell into the "wrong crowd" and began using drugs, alcohol, and sex to deal with pain. to this day i would not consider myself an addict, but i certainly engaged in poor decision making and addictive behaviors.
     my friends cam and went; passing me from one group to the next; using me up for what i was worth. i knew nothing of love, trust, or honesty. the terms "self-esteem" and "self-worth" were not in my vocabulary. i believed i was good for whatever someone could take from me. this self image led to many blacked out nights with girls that would never talk to me again. to me, this was normal. it was all i knew. sure, someone would say "i love you," bit that would only last until they got bored of the sex or began to understand my depression and anxiety. . i was disposable. as good as trash. i was nothing.
     i believed that God had even given up on me. i was originally raised in an "all accepting church". so it was totally cool when i came out as a lesbian. that was not the problem. the problem was when i stopped going to church and let the degrading words and actions of my partners and friends  eat away at me. they told me i was unlovable and worthless...so i naively believed. i blamed myself for my friends' addiction, pain, and suffering and believed God punished me for ruining His children.
     now, i am not NOT claiming my "eyes have been opened; ive seen the light! my faith in myself, humanity and God is completely restored!" but since i have started attending groups again, i definitely have noticed a difference in the way i look at the world.
      i have met a group of amazing, insightful, healing, honest people who are in different stages of the same path as me and it thrills and terrifies me at the same time. to have so much support is great! but so different that i have no idea what to do with it...
     by sharing my story with my new support system i have been able to open up and realize my beauty and worth. i understand happiness is not a light switch, but instead like churning butter; hard work and patience.
     mindfulness ins the most important skill all the years of therapy has taught me. and ya know what? it can be a very spiritual experience for me. i dont really consider myself "religious" anymore...and im not so sure what my thoughts are about the Christian God; but i definitely feel a higher power during my mindfulness practices. its like a warm hand on my back or another force reassuring my positive affirmations.
     SO. IM CURED.
     Just kidding.
     its going to take time. but im willing, working, and worth it. 

I'm OK

"I'm OK"

The words slip out of my mouth; dripping with lies and deceit.

"No."

Was her response. Of course she knew. Kayla knew everything. About me, anyway. She knew that my unseasonably long jeans hid scars and bruises from the cruel world. She knew that my mind played tricks on me; making me believe everyone hated me or I am unloveable. And, of course, she knew that I loved her. Even though she didn't love me back.

"But I will be."

I whispered, itching the newest healing cut on my leg. Watching me, she quickly grabbed my leg and shoved my jeans up, revealing the cut.

"You fucking promised!"

She scolded with a tear welling up in her eye. I did. I promised I would stop. But it wasn't that easy! Telling a cutter to stop was like telling a smoker to stop. Cold turkey just doesn't work.

"I know..."

"Kat...Seriously...I care about you too much for you to do this shit to yourself,"

She always said that she cared about me...but she could never love me. She loved someone else. I thought it was crazy but she had a dream. A dream to follow her lover to Australia and be happy together forever. She knew it would take her up to three years to be reunited with this mystery woman...but it didn't matter to Kayla. She told me that "when you know, you know". Well, with Kayla, I knew. It just sucked that she didn't love me back.

Starbucks

"You don't have to do this..."

These words crept across the small Starbucks table to me. I didn't recognize the voice; as I didn't arrive with any company...yet there she was. A beautiful young woman in a bright red coat with bouncing blonde curls. She just sat there...looking at me...then she grabbed my bandaged wrist.

"You don't have to do this."

She repeated. A tear welling in her green eye. But...she didn't even know me? Why did this stranger give a shit about my mutilation? She had no reason to care. She was just a pedestrian walking by me and my coffee. Was it the empty look in my eyes? Or my slumped shoulders? Or the thick white bandage that covered most of my wrist...if only she knew about the bandages that scattered my legs as well...

"Yes I do."

I finally responded after what felt like forever. Tears must be contagious.

"No. I understand."

How could she understand? She was thin, beautiful, happy, and wore a beautiful wedding band. Everything was going great for her. She had no reason to be depressed. Not like me.

"No you don't. You don't know me."

"But I know what that's like."

She confessed, slowly sliding up her coat sleeve to reveal thick white scares.

How Do You Show Your Pain?

Some show their pain with a swipe at the wrist,
While others prefer a throw of the fist.
Some show their pain with an empty bottle,
While others prefer to hit the road full throttle.
Some show their pain with a puff and a drag,
While others prefer to bitch and nag.
Some show their pain with fun from a whore,
While others prefer to eat more and more.

But others? Others like me?
I prefer the company of an old oak tree
Under which I write words and melody
That make me feel unburdened and free.
That is how i show my pain,
By writing it out again and again.
Some find writing to be mundane,
For me its shows my hurt, but more humane.

And you? I only have one simple favor to ask,
Don't show your pain with a silent fast;
Don't show it with a tilted flask;
But please don't hide your pain behind a mask.

Show the world and teach it too,
To control the pain that burdens you.
Become someone completely new
Who has something to hold onto.

Commitment to Life

I stopped living when I was 16. Years before my first suicide attempt; months before the first inkling of self harm ever crept into my body. I stopped living because of a boy. A boy I had trusted; befriended; and loved. A boy who tore me down to believe I was ugly, worthless, and above all, unloveable. For years I hated myself for everything I "let" him say to me. I wallowed in self pity and low self esteem and didn't do anything about it. Even while in treatment I ignored the base of my issues, the root of the cause.

Until now. Now I am willing to make a commitment to life. I will commit to staying away from life threatening/harmful behaviors. In the past I have had a history of self harming in place of healthy coping skills.
But, I commit to practicing healthy coping skills like Daventry, pace breathing, and self soothes. I commit to staying focused and engaged in session instead of withdrawing when I feel threatened or vulnerable.
I commit to lessening my use of "I don't know" statements by taking the time to think and process the difficult concept that has been handed to me instead of immediately shooting it down defensively.
I commit to completing my homework in a timely manner.
I commit to keeping a job commitment. In the past it has been very difficult for me to get to work every shift. But, i commit to going to work in order to earn money to save up so I can move out.
I commit to standing up for myself.
 I commit to not lying to gain social approval. I used to "tell tall tales" in order to get people to like me.
I commit to becoming healthier.
I commit to accepting compliments.
 I commit to saying "I love you" to friends and family.

I commit to smiling.