Proud

I was able to tell Prof that I've been clean for 2-3 weeks.

Going back and counting, it's been 23 days. Three weeks and one day since the last time I self-harmed.

I'm really proud of myself, proud that I was able to tell Prof, and proud that I've come this far.

Quiet

Things are quieting down, in my head. And it's nice.

The Troops are kind of fading. It must be the Abilify. I'm not complaining. I can realize that they're parts of me, my personality, that my mind has compartmentalized into separate personalities. They're all me. They're all just different facets of myself that need to come together to form a whole person again.

And I can do that.



School didn't let me come back, but in some ways I knew that was going to happen. And maybe it's for the best? I don't know. I just have to keep on living. When I come back to college, I'm going to blow them away. I will be the best super senior they've seen, because I've been there and back, and I have the experience to know that I can handle anything after all I've been through.


Bring it on, life.

I Don't Have To...

I don't have to feel that way anymore.

I found pictures I drew, a child curled up under a blanket, clutching at a teddy bear for dear life. BAD BAD BAD bombarded the child outside of the blanket, as tears rolled down their cheeks.

I'm not that child anymore. I'm not being bombarded by those thoughts. Things have calmed down.


Another pictured depicted a garbage dump.
A lone hand sticks up out of the rubble, a foot protruding underneath the garbage heap.

I felt like garbage,worthless, discarded.

But I don't feel that way anymore either. I have worth, and I'm not that person anymore. I'm not garbage.