I Didn’t Survive Suicide for this Bullsh*t.

It’s been about two years and three months since the time I went manic, decided I didn’t like this “game” anymore and tried to “quit.” (Weirdly, that was how I thought about it at the time. Yeah.) I have some pretty obvious scars down my wrist that were angry and red for quite some time, and that caused a LOT more people than I would have anticipated  to grab me and tell me to stop hurting myself (however, a critical thinker might realize that scars are not the same as fresh wounds. So. Little bit late on that one, guys.)

Nowadays, the scars are still there, but faded. To the point that someone didn’t believe I’d ever had mental health problems. Ya know, cause I am so…good now. How do I phrase that one? I’m not perfect or something, but there’s something about the worst things happening, and still being here and being okay. Some kind of quality that makes you realize that some things REALLY don’t matter. But also, life is short, and you don’t have to put up with things that are going to make you miserable if you don’t need to.

I call this my “WELL, I didn’t survive suicide for THIS” attitude. Pre-suicide attempt me wasn’t ready to fail. Or even make minor mistakes. I’d turn over even the slightest mistake in my head (and being socially awkward, there were a lot of missteps!) for so long, I’d have trouble remembering what really happened. Pre-attempt me wouldn’t take risks, and especially wouldn’t let people see me break. And most importantly, I bent over backwards to please everyone, and put up with behavior I should never have.

I allowed people to not only walk all over me, but I put my energy into them without receiving anything back. And really, with the way I held everyone at arm’s length, I don’t know how they would have given anything back to me. I set myself up to really only work well with self-centered type people, because I couldn’t even begin to have a two way street kind of friendship.

Now, however?

I don’t pursue things that don’t fulfill me in some way. Job where I learn cool and useful skills? Cool. Friend who pushes me to hike over mountains? Fantastic. Volunteering somewhere I feel useful? The goddamn best.

Twin who insists I make her look fat by….existing in a picture with her? Blocked.

Mom who insists I must be pregnant because I live with two men? Bye.

“Friend” who says I’ve “friendzoned” him? I think y’all get the idea.

I realize looking back that I didn’t value myself enough to make sure that the people I surrounded myself with valued me too. And frankly, now that I’ve faced the kind of emptiness that I did, I’ve decided that these bonus years are mine. Not my twin’s. Not my parents’. Absolutely not anyone who I’ve decided to grace with my friendship.

Looking forward to the next few years of healthy relationships, fulfilling life goals, and trying new things. Two years, three months, and counting on.

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