i still hope
written on September 28, 2020
I’m so tired.
Your girlfriend would drag you to me so that I could give you a reality check about your mental health. When you broke up, you began to rely on me heavily regarding your mental health issues, making me your entire support system as you started dealing with anxiety and self-harm.
I’m sorry I didn’t support you more. I had a lot on my plate, working 40 hrs/wk, taking multiple classes, and also running a nonprofit. Yes, these are all excuses.
But still, did you have to turn to me? Mental health-wise, yes I know what you’re going through. Because I’ve been depressed for four years, self-harming for six, and diagnosed with anxiety and PTSD for two. So yes, I can kinda understand what you‘re feeling. But I was struggling too. I told you that I didn’t think I could handle having the weight of your struggles on my shoulders. You told me that everyone says that, which I heard as a simple idc (Was I wrong?)
Yes, you always see me talking about needing more sleep but you’ve never seen me wake up in the middle of the night with a panic attack because of flashbacks. Yes, you always hear me laughing, joking around, and socializing but you’ve never heard the cruel voices filling my mind with debilitating judgments. So maybe I seemed fine.
But I asked for a boundary. Did you deem it unnecessary because I appeared to be thriving?
I was taking my meds to stick to a healthier sleep schedule, did you have to bypass my Do Not Disturb at 1 am? I had just been clean of self harm for two weeks (which isn’t a lot for many people but meant the world to me), couldn’t you have been a little more mindful of what and how you shared with me? My last suicide attempt was still dated 2020, wasn’t this all too soon?
I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do.
I tried to help but we both ended up drowning. You found another brother to pull you out, but I was in too deep to resurface. When I finally washed up on shore after being tossed around by my demons, you were back again asking for help.
I’m sorry I didn’t respond. I was scared.
I didn’t want my story to end at 18. I wanted to choose the semicolon instead of a period. And I genuinely love you and I don’t want you to spiral down. But when I’m caring for you, we only end up suffering together. It’s a hopeless battle for me, but you can find someone else to pull you up. Don’t drown with me. Please.
I’m sorry.
~•~•~
Maybe you didn’t know. How could you have not known? You’ve heard my testimony more times than I can count, and I’ve always referenced my own struggles when speaking with you. But I still hold on to the hope that you do ’t know. Because I can’t allow myself to believe that you knew how much I spiraled due to our conversations.
Today I asked you if you still cared. You said yes. Then why did you never ask?
Now I’m depressed again, addicted to pain and painkillers, unable to make my brain shut off without meds. And you still resent me for not being there for you.
~•~•~
But I find God calling me back to you. I hear Him telling me to share your burdens and sustain you through this season. For you it’s a season, a long yet temporary time in which you learn to let go of your pride and go to God for help. Where you learn to accept that you are broken, that you are still just a child. And in this time, I’ll cry out on your behalf with my heart as shredded as the Father’s for you.
Thank you Lord, for showing me your heart for this brother. Help me keep my heart aligned with yours.
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“You also, be patient. Establish your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is at hand. Do not grumble against one another, brothers so that you may not be judged”
– James 5:8-9
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