“The thing about writing is I can’t tell if it’s healing or destroying me.” -Milk and Honey, Rupi Kaur (I fell in love with her book of poetry: buy it here)
Who were you before you got into drugs and alcohol?
I was a teenager. I don’t remember her, or maybe I don’t wish to be reminded. What was so bad about her? Weeping in bathroom stalls, useless and weak. Beholden to her mother, grieving over her grandmother’s illness. The family falling apart and being torn between everybody.
I liked to read. I had my friends over after school. We read fanfiction and traded manga back and forth. We drew and played roleplaying games. I was consumed by fanfiction at a young age, the heralding of puberty was foregoing playing outside to read fanfiction inside on the computer. So went my youth, reading Bulma/Vegeta lemons online (Go DBZ! lol my first fandom)
I took care of others. I helped my cousin and my grandma. Did I cry a lot, so much so that I hated myself? Some days I could not take it, the anxiety and drama in the house when my mom and uncle were fighting. My uncle rightfully recognized my mother was a bully and refused to let her push him around as she naturally did everyone else in the house; my Granny and me. We let her.
We were patient and kind. We were serene, calm, and forgiving. We had the strength to turn the other cheek when burned. We were always the bigger person, strong enough to say I’m sorry, you were right. Strong enough to let bygones be bygones.
Some people are more familiar with despair. They take it to bed with them at night, wake up clutching it to them for dear life. They can handle more than their share, not like others, no. Others would not be so kind. Only the meek and gentle are strong enough to carry such a heavy burden, to relieve other’s suffering. It is both a gift and a curse. You can heal others’ broken hearts, but never your own.
How to begin doing that?
Your own heart is an unsolvable puzzle. The secret to you is inside you, and you’ve locked yourself out with no hope whatsoever of ever finding the key. If you could just figure out x, y, and z, you could become complete and happy somehow. It turns out the equation for success is not so simple to find out.
Or is it? What is it that you crave?
Love and understanding, a gentle hand. Praising voice. The devil is in the details. How can you have more than what you currently own? To have something you have never had, you must do something you have never done. The question becomes, “What are you willing to do?”
What if the answer is nothing? Am I allowed to opt out?
The answer is no. No decision is still a decision. When are you going to learn that?