Thank You For Surviving

This is the time of year we see countdowns of the Top 10 Best Books of 2018, Top 5 Inspiring Moments of 2018, Top 10 Innovations Of 2018, etc., etc. We look ahead to the future while highlighting the best of the best over the last 12 months.

For a lot of us, the biggest highlight is that we survived another year. We woke up fighting dark thoughts, addictions, urges, and isolation. We went to bed completely drained and unable to imagine how we were going to do it all over again the next day. For some of us, the easiest part of the year was when we decided not to feel anything at all – no pain, sadness, fear, anger… no joy, happiness, hope, or community.

One of the most impactful things I did in treatment these last few months was writing angry letters. At first, I thought I didn’t really have much anger. I could tell my therapists were trying not to laugh at me when I told them as much.

My assignment was to write to anyone who caused me pain, and to let the anger show. These letters wouldn’t be sent, they were just for me to process. I told my therapist my list was pretty small… two or three people at most. By the end of my time at The Center, I was the Oprah of angry letters. “You get an angry letter, and you get an angry letter!”

It took a while to get there. In fact, my first letter wasn’t angry enough. I spent the first page explaining why maybe I was feeling the way I was feeling, but also that I knew they loved me and they are a victim too and it’s totally understandable why maybe they had the reactions that they had.

My therapist decided I wasn’t ready for anger yet. I needed to feel compassion for myself first. So we started a different series of letters to my younger self. Throughout writing and processing, I realized I’d been carrying shame instead of anger.

My last letter thanked the younger me for surviving sexual, emotional, and physical abuse throughout her life. I thanked her for protecting herself the best way she knew how with the resources she had at the time. I told her all of that shame she collected and carried over the years was never hers in the first place. And finally I told her I’d take it from her and continue to protect her broken pieces.

As excruciating as it was to write that letter and read it out loud to my therapist, it was also freeing. Putting words to the pain and speaking my truth helped assign meaning to the suffering. It brought all of the parts of my life together so I could start to love my whole self. The younger me fought so hard to survive, how could I not honor her actions?

To anyone who is reading this who feels like they’re losing the battle against their diagnosis and their demons: you’re not alone. You’ve made it this far. You’ve fought for yourself every step of the way, even on the hardest days, and you’re here. I’m guessing your journey up to this point hasn’t been pretty, and there are days you’ve failed miserably, but it’s ok to give yourself grace. You did the best you could with the resources you had at the time.

Thank you for surviving.