Helping others, giving advice, that’s what I do, not because I’m so damn unselfish, because I can be, but because it’s so much easier than to have to deal with myself and what I’m struggling with.
I see that every time I give an advice, I could’ve followed that advice myself, but I never do, why don’t I?
Why is it so easy to help others, but just not yourself? Why can’t it be just as easy?
Why can’t it be as easy as breathing?
I look back, and I can’t believe that I’ve made it this far. A year ago I though living was impossible, that I couldn’t make it, but I did, so far so good right?
Even when I trip, and it seems like I’m back to where I started, I know that I won’t fall that long, why? Because battles make you stronger, you might not realize that in your everyday life, but when you trip, and it feels like you’re inches from falling, you manage to stumble your way up again, step by step.
You manage to do what you weren’t capable of doing years ago, and that’s what I call progress.
Some need signs of progress almost every day, and when they don’t, they believe that they’ve failed, and when they start to believe that they always fail, that will happen.
And just like I’ve said in an earlier post, say to yourself, I can make it, I will make it, and you will. It might take some time to achieve that victory, but I can tell you this, it’s worth the wait.
A year ago, or maybe even six months I wasn’t able to pressure myself at all to make things happen, to make me say things that needed to be said, but I’ve noticed that it’s a little easier now, and if I keep doing it, it will be easier, and maybe someday I don’t need to pressure myself at all, I mean, who knows, right?
I’ve wondered lately that if these struggles so many of us get are for greater purposes, for us to be stronger for other reasons, maybe to help others win their battles, to be strong for them, for them knowing that we also know what real pain feels like.
I can’t believe that my opinion on suicide was that it was selfish, but it was probably because I didn’t know what it was all about, I mean, the first time I got asked if I was suicidal was in 9th grade, by the school nurse, and I said no, and explained that I thought it was selfish and evil.
A few months later that opinion changed, I was terrified, didn’t know what to do, didn’t tell anyone about my wish to end it all. I had weekly appointments with the school nurse, and again I got the question if I was suicidal, but she sort of tricked me out of it, to tell her that yes, I was.
She asked if I ever had thoughts or wanted to start all over again, and I said yes, thinking that she meant something else, but by the look in her eyes, I could tell that she had put the pieces together.
One part of me was relieved, another one terrified.
Now I’m glad she tricked it out of me, I mean, who knows where I would’ve been now if it hadn’t come out?
All I’m saying is, if you feel like something’s wrong, don’t doubt for a second to talk to someone about it, no matter if you’re convinced what others have bigger problems, or it’s not that serious, because trust me, it is serious.
I wish that having problems wasn’t as hush, hush as it is now, that people with problems weren’t considered as freaks or retards. I hope that someday people can be open about it and not be afraid of being judged.
Having problems aren’t anything to be ashamed of.
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger!
Bekka – InsideOut