Believe me I know how you feel.
I’ve tried fucking, drinking, medicating, kissing, and crying (along with a multitude of additional things) the sadness away. What I’ve learned is that I have to rely on myself to be happy. I have to decide that I want to be happy and that I don’t want to be like this. I made that decision a few months ago, and things aren’t completely turned around for me, I’m not in the slightest anywhere near recovered, but I’ve improved just a little bit. And I’ve learned that the smallest improvements go a long way. Of course I have a few slip ups here and there, and believe me I fuck up a lot. But relapses and such are a normal part of recovery, and I’m sure everyone knows recovery doesn’t go as easy as we’d like it too. My recovery has had it’s ups and downs, and at one point i was sitting on my bedroom floor, crying into my lap, and I was thing “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. I’m going to be like this forever.” But I know that I won’t be like this forever, and one day I’ll be content with my self enough to stop being disgusted with my reflection in the mirror. I’ll stop hurting myself, I’ll begin to love myself. I can’t say I’ll begin to love my self again, because I really never loved myself. I grew up hating myself from a very young age; I don’t know why, but It happened that way, and I’m trying to learn how to love myself. I’ve learned that you have to find the strength in you to want to get better. Because no one can do it for you, there will be no cute boy (or girl, or anybody else) who will come and kiss your scars and save you. Of course it’s nice to have a support system, (whether if it’s with family, friends, or lovers etc) and you really should have one, but it’s up to you to want to get better, to understand that you do in fact deserve better than what you’re going through. It’s tough, but it’s possible, and I know you can do it.
What you really, really have to remember is that you’re loved. I mean you seriously need to engrave this into your mind.
I know what you’re thinking. “But Joaquin, no one loves me. I’m [insert something self-deprecating here].” I think that everyday, but it comes to a point where I do realize that I am loved by someone. I understand that we have our nights, our really bad nights, where everything seems hopeless and you really honestly do feel like no one loves you. I get it, believe me I get it, I understand it more than I should have to. But I promise, I fucking promise you, that you’re loved. If not by anyone around you, then at least you know I do. Yes, that’s cliché as hell to say that I love someone that I don’t even know, but I care about you. Even if we’ve never spoken, at all, I care about you. None of this is probably what you want to hear, because I’m sure you’ve heard this same speech before, but I want you to know that all of what I’m saying is true. Even if you don’t believe it, it is true. You are loved, and when you don’t think you are, send me a message. I’ll talk to you. I don’t care if we have to talk about your pet cat, I will help you, I will talk to you, and I will make sure that you feel loved. Even if by a stranger on the internet. So if you ever feel like hurting yourself in any way, or if you feel so hopeless that you want to kill yourself, please come talk to me. Like I mentioned, we don’t have to speak about anything in specific. If it takes your mind off things, and it helps you feel better, we’ll do it.
And I’m not saying that I’m doing any better than I have for the past couple of weeks. Because believe me I haven’t. I’ve relapsed and self-harmed over 20 times in the past 4 or 5 days. Yeah, it sucks, and it is so stupid of me, but relapsing one time won’t be the end of the world. I, and you as well, can always start again the next day. Progress is progress no matter how small. I don’t care if you are going 4 hours without any self-destructive behaviour, that is progress.
To wrap this all up in a neat little package for you:
You are loved, relapse is okay, asking for help is okay, and you need to find it in yourself to make yourself better.