It becomes destructive almost immediately. I find myself reaching for anything that gives me false confidence or can somehow fill that deep void of being not enough no matter how temporary.
But I feel my strength has always been my ability to be real, to be open. To bare open those wounds and maybe give someone else strength.
In the past year, maybe more. I’ve closed off more and more. Felt worse and worse and continued to retreat into a fake version of a strong me. I’ve felt truly alone and reaching for whatever but of peace I could find.
No more. I’m done hiding. My insecurity open for all to see. I constantly try, so hard, to be better. Do the right thing. But I hide the dark bitter pains deep inside. Here, in my blog, is maybe where you can see it the most. The posts, infrequent. Maybe ingenious.
I’m here today to reclaim myself. My flawed insecure self. This last week I’ve been in the darkest place in my life. Rock bottom like I’ve never known.
My healing starts now. It will be real and unflinching. With little details but real emotion. I need to heal, I need to stop trying to get better and actually get better.
It started Thursday night when I picked up the phone and called my sponsor. Yesterday I went to my first meeting in a long time. Too long and too many drinks. It was hard but more so a relief. I’m an alcoholic. I can say that again with conviction.
You might wonder why I write this, people have accused me of crying for attention. I’m here to tell you, it’s not for you. It’s for other broken hearts that have been there and may be reminded, or encouraged through my never ending developing story.
But yes, it’s also for me. I feel healing through writing. I always have. I’ve always believed writing was my calling, in my bones. I’m writing a journal privately but this seems to make me more honest then I even am to myself. Maybe letting it all out relieves my spirit so it can fly free in that brutal honesty.
But this is where I leave my heart bare. Rebuilding will come slow, all I can do is heal.