How do I know?

Mental illness has always been a strange topic of conversation for me.

How do I know if I am better?

Will I ever, in fact, be better?

Does spending hours talking it out really do anything at all?

When I began the process of getting "clean" and really tackling my mental health, it was the first question I asked myself. How do I know if I am better? I could care less what the doctors had to say. Simply because they say I am better does not in fact make that the case. I wanted to know how I would know. Was it something I would feel? Would I suddenly not want to scream in pain every moment of my day? Am I really ready to admit to myself and to others that I have never been ok? That I have lied this entire time just so they could feel good about themselves? Who would I hurt the most if I told my truth? Did it really even matter at this point? Is it ok to harm another with the truth if it means I get to be ok? Too many questions. So, I have always just avoided it. Being human is a messy business, if you ask me. I certainly wouldn't recommend it. We never know when to fix something that is broken. Sometimes, we don't even know we broke it.

Codependency is honestly my biggest problem.

I care. I care too much. I have to fix everything. If I fix it, then people will need me. I will be important. I will be necessary. Ever since I found out I was adopted I have had this belief that everyone would be better off without me. I don't know why, I just felt that way. Abandoned by the very person who was hard wired to give a shit, and even she couldn't manage it. Great. Right? I don't know. Honestly, at the end of the day, I do not truly know what her reasons were, or why she has done the things that she has. I also know excuses are like assholes, everyones got one, and they all stink.

Maybe there is no answer, and that in and of itself is something I have to accept. Acceptance is the key to be free, or so I heard in a song.

I just wonder if somehow all the pieces will blend together, and everything will be alright. Maybe the answer to the question, is to stop asking questions.

The beatles sing a song that often crosses my mind when I come to a point like this.

"When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me. Speaking words of wisdom, let it be."

Another thing I have actively struggled with my entire life. Radical acceptance. I’ve never been able to give myself the right to accept things as they are.

“You can’t control everything.”

Well, maybe that’s the problem. If I could simply find the way that let me control everything then….what?

Some perfected fantasy that would be….happinesss? Whatever that even means. I think at this point I’ve learned that happiness is a choice. It’s not a state of being. It’s not something you can find in a prescription bottle, and it’s certainly not something you pay for at the reception area of your local therapists office. Despite everything….even on your worst day. After living through my worst nightmares time and time again. I wasn’t really given much of a choice. I had to find a way to keep going. So I did. I carried on….somehow. I don’t know that it’s happiness. But I know that where I am now? Is a place I’ve never been. I’ve never felt….home. So I guess in the end living in hell was all worth it. Because in the deepest pit of them all I found the one thing I thought you had to walk up a staircase to get to. Heaven.