…to ask for help. This is a concept I have struggled with, my entire life. To ask for help is to admit defeat. At least that’s what I always thought. But sometimes help is your only option.
For as long as I can remember, my mind has never really been right. It’s been a dangerous place for my self esteem and overall mental health. It’s a terrible, terrible thing when your mind is against you. When it manages to convince you that you’re worthless and undeserving of any shred of happiness that manages to come your way. It turns you against people. People that you know, deep down under all that self loathing, care more about you than you could ever imagine. It makes you sabotage something good, just to save yourself from a heartache you know is inevitable. It makes you believe that you are toxic. And that your only course of action is to isolate yourself and stay as far away from friends and family as possible.
And sometimes, it tries to convince you to just give up.
And that seems like a wonderful option. Relieve the people in your life of the burden that is your overall existence.
But it’s not a wonderful option. And that’s your moment to realize that getting help isn’t weak. It’s actually a strength beyond any you thought you could possess. Because it means you want to keep going. To keep trudging through the darkness and the hatred that’s built up inside of you, and find that light. Even if it’s something small and barely visible. It’s there.
That’s something I had to do. I was sinking. Drowning in my own mind. I have a lot of work to do. It’s not a quick fix. It never is. But it’s worth it. It has to be. There are reasons for me to hang on and to keep going. I haven’t really found them yet, I’ll be honest. But it’s only been a short period of time since making all of these realizations.
I believe that I will get better; That I will be ok.
If you’ve made it this far down the post, thank you. For listening. For sticking with me. I can’t do this without you.