This time around, not starting over, but starting

I think my suicide attempt was my wake up call. After I plunged the razor into my veins and saw the blood crying, I knew I had made a mistake. I wanted to go back. I wanted to call somebody. I knew I would have to wear the scars for the rest of my life. I had too many scars on such a young body. So many years of self-mutilation to feel better. So many years of reckless behavior to punish myself. Funny, I treated myself like I knew I would.

I had my first therapy appointment today. I had my first AA meeting this past weekend. I’m looking forward to life again. I don’t want it to get that dark every again.

My therapist asked me where do I see myself a year from now. A year from now I would like to be alive. I like to be coming off a year of celibacy. I think I’ve misused sex and I need to get back in touch with my body. I like to be sober. I like to be in my own apartment. I like to bring the smile back to my eyes.

I know it’s going to be hard work coming back from the dead, again. The dead never come back the same. The last time I came back, I thought it was for love. I didn’t want to die without ever feeling love. This time, I got everything to prove to myself. I know I’m not the fuck up I can sometimes be. I know I can do something really special in this world. I know I can be healthy and proactive. I can be somebody.

Every time I’m embarrassed, I just tell myself this too shall pass and look into the future when nobody remembers I fell down. I know the road ahead of me will be difficult, but I smile because I look into the future when I’m happy and healthy.

Yes sweetheart, I do want to get healthy.