written on june twentieth, two thousand and eighteen. nine forty-four pm.
I’ve been in recovery for nine months and counting, and I don’t think there will ever be an “end” number. In the past I believed otherwise; I believed I’d go through rough times during my adolescence, reach out for help during college, then be healed completely by my mid twenties and live a life of pure bliss.
I’ve come to learn none of this is true. I’m forever grateful to have received help at age sixteen; the mere thought of this fact still comes as a shock to me. I believed recovery had a certain start and end point until a week or so ago, when watching an episode of “Kids Meet” on YouTube (great series, definetely recommend). This particular episode was about a sixteen year old who was in recovery from addition. When asked by a kid when he’ll “be done recovering”, he said something along the lines of “I don’t think I’ll ever be done”. Those words have stuck with me since I heard them, and they’ve given me a different perspective on the journey I decided to embark on in August of 2017.
Recovery is far from easy. I’m a much better person than I was this time last year, but that doesn’t mean the time in between was smooth sailing. Failed lab tests and seemingly useless self-assessments can be pretty discouraging, I’ll be the first to admit. But the fact that I chose to take that self assessment and get those lab tests done show that I’m getting somewhere in my journey, not just walking in a circle.
The primary purpose of this think piece is to be a positive affirmation for me. I took a break from writing on here because frankly, I was too sad and unmotivated to write. But I started this website with a purpose: to share my experiences and words with others, in hopes of creating an inspiring and accepting space for all of you. And that’s what I will continue to do.
love you always,