I love coming back here every so often to look back at my old posts.
The poetry, the prose, the pictures I was posting and reblogging. It's a diary like no other; it's like stepping through an ethereal door of space and time and standing face to face with all the different versions of myself that once existed. Mostly sad. Sometimes happy. Often painful.
Seeing the old accounts I followed, friends I made, memories created, all now inactive, deleted, "last active 9 years ago". I'm 28 years old now. This account is 11 years old. From 17 to 21 my Tumblr was the only thing that held my deepest secrets, the only space I felt safe enough to post my thoughts and feelings. Tumblr saw me depressed, anxious, suicidal. Tumblr saw my goodbye letters, letters I thankfully never had to use. I nearly wasn't here, and there are older parts of my blog that encompasses that feeling - a young girl lost and alone, unable to cope, looking for a way out.
I know some others didn't make it through, but in many cases, it's simply an "I will never know if that person made it through". I just stare at an inactive profile and remember the person behind the screen and hope that things got better for them eventually. I imagine the lives they live now full of happiness, full of small moments that make them glad that they kept going, creating memories they never thought would be possible. I hope that for them, for you, if you're reading this.
I'm in my final year of university and I'm living a healthy life with my BPD. I have a loving partner and I have tried to heal my relationships with my family. I have few people I could call my true friends, but the friends I do have are ones I never thought I would deserve. I still struggle, I still carry pain and trauma with me, and I know that will always be the case. I sometimes look in the mirror and I see that 17 year old girl; I see her again at 19, 21, 25, all encompassed within the woman I am now. I do my best to protect all those versions of younger me, the way that nobody protected me then.
When I hope your life is full of joy, I know realistically it is probably as messy and complicated as mine. Recovery is not linear, and I know you have days where you too remember retreating to your Tumblr at 3am because it was the only space that felt safe. But I hope that there are days when you feel it has all been worth it. I hope there are days you look around at your life and remember that you never thought you would make it this far, and you feel proud. I hope you have love in your life, and I hope some of that love is directed towards yourself.
It will get better, the pain soon will end
No matter how low you may feel;
For one day you'll wake, and flowers will grow
In places you thought never would heal.
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