After about a month or two, I was over therapy. I kept asking my therapist when am I going to be cured and feel like myself again. I so desperately wanted to feel like the same eighteen-year-old starting college. Just erase all the trauma, heartbreak, and grief; just start adulthood all over again. Life was kicking my ass, and at night my mind was picking up where the world left off. The truth was I was never going to be or feel the same way as I did when I was eighteen.
I spent a lot of energy trying to fake like the woman I thought I was supposed to be instead of being honest to myself and those around me. I spent so much time ashamed of all the scars life kept giving me and covered them up with lies and secrets. The truth was by me trying to recreate a past version of myself, I was robbing myself of my growth. I’ve grown and matured from my experiences, giving me a new outlook and perspective of the world. My darkest days and lowest moments aren’t something to be ashamed of, yes it left scars, but it’s just proof I survived moments that could have killed me.
There was no magic cure, and I was never going to feel like my old self again. I’ve changed and not into the woman a younger version of myself imagined, but the woman I am meant to be. The most important lesson I learned from therapy is to live in the present. Love and be kind to who I am right now, and embrace my scars, because those are valuable pieces of my story. I ultimately learned my scars are evidence of strength, not weakness.
I basically had to learn to say fuck off to all of the shame and pressure I put on myself.