I missed my own anniversary - 2 years, as of Sunday.
Freedom. Healing. Growth.
But what does that mean, two years later?
Well, I'll be honest with you:
I still cut. In fact, I've never made it longer than 8 months. It is still a temptation I face on a daily basis - a lie I turn to when everything else feels out of control. Do these fresh scars mean I am any less healed? I don't think so. No addiction is recovered from quickly.
I still lose myself, breaking down into a shaking mess on my bedroom floor, pain pouring from a wound I can't cover, I can't hide from. Some damage takes time to recover from.
I'm still afraid - 98% of the time it feels like. There is not a day I don't doubt myself, not a night I don't go to bed without wondering, am I enough?
I still - briefly - wish, it would all go away. That I would go away.
But this, this, is how I know I am healed -
I know I don't need the cutting like I used to. Now, it only happens at my ultimate breaking point, instead of every little thing that goes wrong. And no, it's not something I'm proud of, but after it happens, I brush myself off, I take a deep breath, and I try again. I may backslide, but I never let it own me.
I know, ultimately, I am a Daughter of God, cherished, precious, safe. I know that I am loved and I am not alone. Those lost moments, they still hurt, but I know they won't last forever. I am stronger.
I know that fear is an illusion, that, really all I have to do is keep walking, even when I'm not sure where I'm going. Sometimes you have to do, and be, just because, even if it doesn't make sense, because you know it'll be ok, you're just not sure how.
I know that I can trust,( I'm just not that good at it.)
I know that I can be brave.
I know that I can be the person God created me to be-
it may take excruciating effort...
but I know that broken, hopeless version of myself no longer exists.
That...that is healing.