Resilience.
If there is any word you need to know it’s resilience. Because, dear self, are the definition of it.
You have defined yourself by the word ‘burden’ far too long. Resilient is your new word.
You will wake up in the middle of the night screaming in pain. You will wake up with vivid nightmares of all your fears and flashbacks being put into horrible pictures. You’ll slowly drag your fingers nails down your arms in an attempt to punish yourself, and you’ll carve words even more horrible into your skin with a blunt knife like it’s a prayer. You still have the scars. You will wake up and forget that you are one of the most resilient people you will ever know. You will wake up and think that you are the embodiment of worthlessness — that you are nothing.
But you, you are everything.
You are like the sun after a plethora of rainy days, stardust on a desert plane — you are effervescent. Yes, you are too much, but in the best way possible. When those voices in your head try to degrade you, you need to always fight back. You’ve looked in the mirror with a look of sheer disgust and yelled at yourself for being a waste of space, you’ve tried to end your life more times than you have fingers on your hands, and you have not succeeded for a reason.
You are meant to be here.
It’s the only thing I, future me, can think of. Because in everything you do you’ve given it one hundred and ten percent, and attempted suicide is no exception. You are a force but something out there is an even bigger force that wants you here.
You’re alive, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of. Celebrate it.
Those people you call your best friends now — they will leave you. They’ll completely forget about you, and you’ll cry about it. You’ll be in pain about it, but there are people who you have now who are better than them. People you’ve never met who you feel more connected to than you have anyone else in ages. Wait for them, they’re worth it. They make living the most worthwhile thing on Earth, they are always always there, and they have made you better than you could have ever been if you only relied on yourself.
When you go through residential treatment, you will rip yourself open with a vigor all your therapists admire. None of them will ever once deny that you didn’t try. Not one of them. Some will be so befuddled when you don't get better and some will be so convinced that you'll be able to get back to wonderful life you had before. You won't, in fact you will be fixing yourself for many many years; don’t you dare rely on anyone else to. I'm still fixing us today. We're sort of a really big mess. We'll get there.
Remember that little boy who you went to kindergarden with who wouldn’t stop IMing you that’s what she said jokes? He’s your best friend now. Not that stupid boy who couldn’t handle all the amazing pieces you are. That stupid boy who you were convinced was your family, who you made your home. Looking back, it was pathetic, and I should have known but wasn't the feeling sweet? It's ok, for now, but, that boy who wouldn't stop IMing you? He's who matters. Make sure you let him know how amazing he is because he’s been your lifeline. He’s your brother in everything but blood. You’ve known him as long as you’ve had your eating disorder and not once has he left you. Not once through all of his pain has he ever put anything but a smile on your face. Through every hospital visit, late night cry sessions, he’s there — every time. He knows your In N Out order, your favorite color, your Hogwarts house, why you can’t even talk about soccer anymore. He knows, hold onto him.
And the girl with the most beautiful blonde hair you’ve ever seen — she understands you. Don’t push her away, please please don’t ever do that, because one day you’ll be sitting in your room with her, and for once in your life someone will understand your pain. Not just your emotional, but physical as well. She will take the time to drive across the city to just see you. She loves you. You two will be there for each other in ways no one else could ever be.
It’s ok to cry, it really is and you’ll be doing so much of it. Let it out. I know you used to believe during your ED mania that sweat was weakness leaving the body. But that’s not true.
Tears are.
But they don’t mean you’re weak they mean you’re finally feeling. You’re finally dealing and yes, at times you feel like it’s dying but you’ll get there. I promise. The tears are slowly releasing all the pain you’ve pent up for years — let it out. You don’t deserve the pain no matter how much you believe it so.
Sometimes you’ll wake up and see little beauties in the world, you’ll see your brother and see hope.
Or a particularly beautiful milkshake.
His smile, the way he always hugs you, the way he never ever looks disappointed when you’ve definitely disappointed him. He loves you more than you feel you deserve and he will keep on loving you. He needs you, don’t you fucking understand? When your parents are fighting yelling the most obscene abuses at other — when anyone’s fighting, he comes to you and you alone. You will make forts for him, turn up your music, take him on late night walks to look for spirits with candles your hands. He’s scared. But he knows he’ll be ok if he has you. He might not be able to articulate it but, you need to stay. Even if it’s for him. Even if it’s always and forever just for him. You are each other’s moon and stars, and he knows you’re in pain. He will tell you that that he will take care of you when you two are older and you’re unable to live on your own. You know he means it even if he is just 11 years old seeing his sister in a hospital bed connected to medications that make you sick. When your hair falls out, he’ll act like he doesn’t notice and cut off his own even though he hates cutting it. Or when you look like a lizard of a person because your skin is so dry and flaky, he’ll still give you kisses on the cheek and lie with you in the middle of the night when he knows you can’t be alone. One day, he’ll need you. You’re still waiting for that 3 AM call at his first party when he begs you to pick him up and not tell mom. One day, he’ll probably go to jail for doing something stupid, and he’ll call you — no one else.
Stay for him.
You’ll hear your friends laughing over Skype which sounds like a beautiful symphony to you. You’ll think how did you get so lucky? You’ll think, how did you end up with the most wonderful people on this Earth? When everything feels like it’s coming apart — hold onto that. Hold onto it as much as you can, and don’t let it slip through your fingers. Spend more time holding onto beauty than forcing beauty ideals upon you. Spend more time reading over conversations than food journals.
Remember that you don’t have to forgive him, that you don’t have to forgive anyone. You don’t have to do anything at all. But you need to let go. Your father is dead no matter what anyone else says — yes, he might be walking around breathing and talking, but it’s not him. Your mom knows it. You don’t have to forgive him, the shell, but you need to forgive who he used to be. He would have wanted that. Then, let go.
You’ll lose the one thing you loved most, that made you who you are. It’s inevitable, and you won’t even be able to look at the World Cup because you keep thinking: that should’ve been me.
And it really really should have. You were born to be great. You put your whole life into a sport and you got everything back. You were brilliant. You were going to be something and it was your sanity. You spent more time perfecting your punt than you did hating yourself. Which, says something because you’ve hated every inch of yourself since you were five years old and walked yourself over to the toilet at your temple where you purged for the very first time. You were the best. And I’m not just saying that because you were spectacular.
You were. Past tense.
But you, you did this to yourself. Yes, yes you did, and I’m not saying that in a mean way. You were up in the clouds living a life that was too good to be true, trying to stomp your demons away with the completely wrong shoes. You thought you could carry on the way you were, you thought you were invincible and everyone else did too. No one expected it would be this way — not a soul.
You fell from grace.
What could have been is no longer there: accept it. You have an illness that took away your first and only love — soccer. But you will find something you love just as much, writing. I promise you, you’ll love it, you really will. But enjoy those last soccer games for me, ok? Remember what it was like to score a goal from half field, savor the moments when your whole team runs to embrace you like all those soccer movies after you protected the goal during penalties. Savor the moment you got picked as a freshman to be the starting goalie on your school’s varsity team when they already had a senior goal keeper. You were living the dream, enjoy it while it lasts. Squeeze every minute you can out of it. Because soon, it will be over.
Everytime you fall, promise me you’ll try. Promise me you won’t give up on us, because there will be days like yesterday and today when you will want to. When you won’t understand why you’re still here, and you’ll cry yourself to sleep with the thought that everyone on this Earth hates you with a passion that you hate yourself with. They don’t.
When you are literally on the floor, holding onto a stuffed bunny that your grandpa have you all those years ago — remember to get the fuck back up, because you are and forever will be, an effervescent resilience.
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