December 28, 2013
I want to tell you in writing how much I love you. I need to tell you this way, because I know you don’t believe me when I tell you in person– you can’t, your illness doesn’t let you. You told me that yourself.
You are so amazing at finding the good in other people, at finding their strengths and beauty, yet you can’t see it in yourself. You think you are worthless. I wish I could hold up a mirror in a way that would allow you to see yourself the way you see everyone else– beautiful, and perfect in their imperfections.
I want you to see yourself the way I see you. When I look at you, I see a girl who is strong, physically and mentally. I see someone who can finish workouts, homework assignments, exams, take care of friends, and lead a “normal” life all while on the verge of mental breakdown. You put up a good front. You’re a fighter. Never let them see you sweat. Or cry.
I wish I could take away some of your suffering. I wish you didn’t feel the need to take out your emotional pains by cutting into your skin or drowning them with alcohol. But I am so thankful you have let me in to this part of your life: because I understand, because I don’t judge you in the least, because I care about you and you mean so much to me.
I don’t know why my meds have worked for me and yours haven’t worked for you. I don’t understand. Maybe you just haven’t found the right one yet. Maybe you just need a different therapist. Maybe this just isn’t the right year. Hang on, my love, hang on. I have seen the other side of this pain and it is worth the wait. The world really is amazing.
Please be careful. Please ask for help when you need it. Do it for me, or your sister, or the moon, or your younger self. Anyone. I’m here for you. I love you, and so do so many people around you.
It will get better. You know the emotional intensities pass. And I believe, truly and deeply so, that there will come a time for you as it has come for me when “good” days are not just “not-as-bad” days.