Self-Sabotage
“I’m okay.”
Someone said that those two words were the most dangerous words in a woman’s vocabulary.
It’s like an immediate response when some asks how you are, how are things, what’s going on.
“I’m okay.”
I never really thought I was putting on a facade. I genuinely thought I was okay. Now was I still up at night? Yes. Was I still crying? Yes. Did my husband have to continuously talk me off ledge? Yes.
I became perfectly fine with posting positivity, when I knew deep down I was still very sad. Very hurt. Very broken. I loved the idea of being healed and whole, and projecting the happiest version of myself. But that was just it. The idea. I didn’t actively pursue wholeness and recovery. I honestly didn’t know how. I thought by posting and smiling, it would naturally come.
The most overwhelming discovery I made while truly self reflecting these past few months was that I wasn’t just too depressed to chase my own happiness; I was too stubborn.
I was miserable and I enjoyed my own company. The sulking. The sadness. The voices.
I became so immune to the comfortability of being the victim of my own mind.
No one was forcing me to recall all the memories that made my heart ache. No one was forcing me to cry. No one was forcing me to be alone. When any of those things happened, I was the only person around.
When pride and doubt meet, there interaction yields self sabotage.
I was the perfect blend of being too prideful to accept true help and doubting my ability to recovery. I didn’t want to believe that people really wanted to be my friend, or cared about me. I refused to believe people really wished me well.
I wanted to be able to pull myself back up. I wanted to be able to read all my self help books, journal my way to a better life, be the best version of myself by myself.
...
But that’s not possible. That’s not possible because I didn’t get to this low of a point by myself. There were people and interactions that aided in digging these holes in my heart. People helped me develop these negative thoughts. I didn’t just become self critical and anxious. I wasn’t born with depression and suicidal thoughts. People and experiences created some of these demons. So naturally, I can’t expect to pull myself out of this hole by myself. I need the people who reach out. I need my family. My husband. My friends. I need the positive interactions to askew the negative ones.
So honestly, wholeheartedly, and truthfully, I’m going to pursue my happiness. I’m not going to push people away. I’m not going to stay home when I know I want to be out. I’m going to text back or text at all. Maybe. Baby steps.
It’s not going to be easy, but it wasn’t easy digging this hole. Climbing out will be just as difficult if not harder.
But I’m promising myself this time.
Not the my timeline. Not my mom. My dad. My siblings. My husband. My friends.
Me.
—AB
