The following letter is based on my own experiences and my own situation; please do not generalise, or feel that it is how I feel about other people's situations/experiences etc.- this is all me, only me.
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Dear Q,I hope you don't mind me writing to you. I also hope you don't mind that I gave you a random letter instead of a name. I don't know your name. To be honest, I don't think I'd recognise your face. I highly doubt you'll ever read this letter, and, even if by some chance you did, I doubt you'd know it was about you. We had a tiny chance encounter three and a bit years ago. You said pretty much one sentence to me. That was it?
So why am I writing to you now?
'no more of this; you're more worthy than this'
- Q
It's 23rd February 2016 today. Just another day. Except, today, it's not. Today is 23rd February 2016, a day not out of the ordinary for many- but for me, it's maybe the proudest day of my life.
Today, I am a year clean. Today, I haven't hurt myself in exactly a year.
I didn't think I'd ever make it this far. This time last year, I didn't want to be alive.
'no more of this; you're more worthy than this'
- Q
I started hurting myself around four years ago. Well, that's when it became a concentrated effort. I'd done it before then, but never seriously. It was around four years ago when it really started. It happened for a lot of reasons. I can't remember exactly why, at the time. I can't really remember it starting. I just know that it did. It was a coping mechanism. Different people use different coping mechanisms, Q. There are lots of ways to look at this, and I guess some people will always try to share their opinions. Heck, I've had enough people tell me I cope the wrong way. The thing about a coping mechanism, though- it helps you cope. And sometimes, that's what matters.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying it's okay, as such. I'm not advising people do it. I'd definitely never ever encourage it in any way shape or form. I'm just saying, we shouldn't hate on people for how they cope with things. We shouldn't force our views on them. That's never going to do anyone any good. All coping mechanisms are valid in that they help that person cope, and that's an important thing to remember.
Let's stress that I don't think hurting yourself is a good way to cope with things. I really really don't. I hate the way Tumblr romanticises it. I hate the way people think it's cool, trendy. I cannot stand all of that. You can not want something to happen at the same time as accepting that it does, I think is what I'm trying to say.
Anyway.
I started hurting myself, and it kept going. I don't know if you've ever experienced addiction, Q, but that's what it is. You just need more, and it gets so hard not to. I wasn't serious about it at first, not really. But stuff got worse, and I started relying on it more and more. And of course, the worse it got, the worse it needed to get. A vicious never-ending cycle, with me in the middle. It might have helped me cope, but it didn't make me happy.
It really didn't make me happy.
You met me three and a bit years ago, Q. I'd been hurting myself for just over a year, roughly. I remember that night really well, because it was beautiful. I went to a gig with a couple of my best friends. We danced, and sang, and laughed, and smiled. It was such an incredible night.
Let's get together and feel alright
- Bob Marley, as covered by Laura Mvula
It was an anomaly, Q. In general, that wasn't an incredible time. Not at all. Things were pretty rough. I was pretty ill. In fact, the next day was one of the worst days of that time. I didn't want to be alive, not really. And yet there, in the darkness, was that night. Something that I'd been looking forwards to; something that kept me going. That's what life was, then- a series of finding things I could look forwards to, and trying to keep myself going until I reached it. Then finding another thing. Then another thing. It wasn't really living. It was surviving.
I have spent a lot of the last four years surviving, Q. I have spent a lot of the last four years wishing I didn't do such a good job of it; time spent trying not to survive, too.
There is a certain amount of grief involved in recovery, I think. I grieve for the time I lost. The summer that was good, in patches, but was mostly spent hating myself and being unable to control how I was feeling and behaving. The gap year I should be on now, that got pushed to the wayside so that I could make my education work around the demands of my head. All the hours I spent, hating myself, trying to find ways not to be.
There were bright moments. Of course there were. There was a whole half a year or so where I was incredibly well. I was happy. I got up every morning ready to face the world. I stopped hurting myself, and spent a whole summer in vest tops, the sun beating down on bare arms. It was so, so good.
I wasn't ready for it to get bad again- so I dealt with it the only way I knew how, by taking it out on myself. Worse than before. It got scary. I can't remember so much of what happened then, even though it was not that long ago. I've spent a lot of time trying not to think about it. Who's got time for that, hey, Q?
Tell everybody that I'm on my way and I'm loving every step I take
- On My Way, Brother Bear
I can't even remember what happened exactly a year ago today. I can't remember what made it different. You see, I'd tried to stop before. Of course I had. Once I got to 166 days (because you count; of course you count). Another time, maybe I got further. But I was chasing that year, and I never managed to get it.
What was different about that time, exactly a year ago? I don't know. I don't think there was anything different, not really. But, somehow, days became weeks, which became months. Six months. Nine months. A year.
A year, Q. A whole year.
Not an easy one. A rollercoaster. Up and down; side to side. There have been difficult times, and sad times, and even some of the worst times. And yet, somehow, I've still managed it. I haven't hurt myself. Not at all, even when I needed to. I focused my energies on getting better- on finding the positives, on making friends and memories and laughing. For a whole year.
There are still scars on my arms. There will always be scars on my arms. Some days I will hate them; other days I will acknowledge that a scar means healing. I still have bad days. There will always be bad days, and I know that that urge will still be an instinct. I can't promise that I will never hurt myself again. But, from here, I know two things: that I am determined to make this more than a year, to keep it going; and that, no matter what happens tomorrow, I still made it to a year. I did more than I ever thought I was capable of.
Hold out against the night; guard your hope with your life
- Elysium, Bear's Den
I don't think I can explain how much this means to me, Q- but to you I don't think I have to. This is the proudest I have ever been. This time a year ago I didn't think this day would ever come. This time a year ago I didn't think there would be a world that had me in it in a year's time. I didn't want there to be a world with me in it.
And yet, somehow, I'm here. Still trying. Still breathing. Still living. Still loving.
And I will run until my feet no longer run no more, and I will kiss until my feet no longer kiss no more, and I will love until my heart it aches, and I will love until my heart it breaks, and I will love until there's nothing more to live for.
- Run, Amy Macdonald
I don't know if we will ever meet again, Q. I doubt we will. I doubt you remember me. But I remember you: the guy my friend got talking to, the guy who noticed the scars on my arms, and pulled me to one side.
'no more of this; you're more worthy than this'
- Q
Thank you, Q. Thank you so so much, for reminding me to fight, for giving me the sentence that has remained at the back of every diary I have owned since we met. Thank you, for seeing me and for believing in me. Thank you, a million times over.
I'm the one, 'cause I'm still here; I'm still here
- I'm Still Here, the Goo Goo Dolls
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For those who feel I'm making a big deal out of this- please, just shush. This is one of the biggest battles I've faced. To still be here, both alive and in love with being alive, is incredible, and I am proud for fighting even when I want to give up. For those in recovery- it is okay to falter and fall, it is okay to lapse and relapse- but please, please keep going, because you can do this, and I absolutely believe in you and love you.
Q is a real person, and my encounter with him is completely true. I have never met him since, and doubt I will ever meet him again. Nevertheless, I feel like I've done him proud. However, it isn't just him I've got to thank. The past year has been the most intense recovery year of my life, and it has only been possible thanks to the huge amount of love and support given to me by my family, friends and other supportive beans, all of whom are utterly unbeatable and incomparable. I love you, and cannot thank you enough x
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