I remember the first day the water turned red.
I remember the stinging, slicing pain of metal on skin. But at the time I wanted it. I wanted the pain. Needed it. It was an addiction. I remember going home every night and watching the water turn red. It was a systematic thing. There were steps to it. Looking back it was very ritualistic. Something that just needed to be done before I could function again. This isn't about those nights.
Over time I learned that I didn't need razor blades to get through life. I'm a strong girl, a smart girl, and yes I had to take a year out of my life to focus on recovery.... I did it. I still put time and effort into recovering every day. My scars have faded, but the memories remain. I've learned to make new ones. Over the last few years of my life I've lost a lot but I've gained just as much. I've gained confidence, strength, ability to cope with stress and anxiety, flexibility in life, an open mind, a healthy body, healthier relationships with others, and myself. I've learned how to take life's hits in stride, and not always hit back or fight fire with fire, but brush it off and keep moving towards my goals. I've learned that it's okay to take a deep breath and just rest once in awhile. When you are in recovery there's a sense of urgency, a sense that you need to get better as quickly as possible. I'm a very ambitious person and that led me to work so hard I would burn out and relapse and have to start over. I learned that there is no race. Just keep going one step at a time. You don't have to sprint. I then learned how to accept every part of myself. I will not say that I love myself yet, but that's okay. I can live happily in a state of acceptance working towards love. Acceptance is a word that I fought throughout my first year of recovery. I didn't want to accept anything. I wanted to forget about it and move on. Or jump right into the love and happiness phase. It doesn't work that way. I had to be open to every slow and painful step. Today, over a year after being admitted into a mental hospital for self harm and suicidal tendencies, I am so happy that I pushed myself to get better. I am so happy that I pushed myself to stay in treatment through every difficult moment. Because today I have, not a perfect, but a beautiful life.
It was cold outside and I came home from a long rough day. One of those really awful days. I decided to take a shower but then changed my mind and take a bath because I wanted something a little extra relaxing. I lit a few candles and turned on the water and realized I had one of those fancy bath bombs from lush. I turned on some music and put my hair up, got in the tub, and plopped in the little sparkly ball of green. I looked down at the faded white lines on my thighs, smooth healing skin, not damaged, just healing. The fizzing stopped, and the bubbles subsided, and today...
The water turned Green.
