Letting go of the rope

Trigger Warning: mild discussion of self-harm mentalities.

Back when I had a therapist, he would describe my negative thoughts as this monster that I have lassoed and am desperately trying to pull into a hole. That struggle is where a lot of my stubbornness towards healing comes from. What would happen if I just let go of the rope?

I always hated that phrase.

Because what could happen if I let go? I don’t know, maybe the monster will evade ever being captured again? Maybe it will hurt me? Maybe it could even kill me?

Back in high school I always pictured my depression as a monster in a literal sense. I wrote poems, and drew pictures about a young girl being terrorized by these almost-cartoonish Beings that would come out at night. At the time, it helped.

But now when I try to picture my negative thoughts as a monster, they don’t seem out of a storybook. The only thing I can picture is a gaseous cloud. So if I managed to get that thing contained with a rope, it’d be a damn feat, and I’m certainly not letting it get out into the open air where other people could be subject to it.

So maybe thinking of my mental illness as another being was never helpful for me.

After all, I am my mental illness. It is me. We are the same brain, we think the same thoughts.

Thinking of it as a monster means that I am a monster…

and I’m not.

But when I make a mistake, it haunts me for life. When I slip up or relapse, I feel like I’ve become that monster.

And I punish myself for it.

Remember that horrible thing you did to someone three years ago? You hurt them so much, you deserve to feel that pain.

Remember the public way in which you failed last year? You let everyone down, you don’t deserve to know success.

Remember the terrible way you’ve treated your own body? You’re so ungrateful, you don’t deserve to get better.

It’s a horrible way to think. In defeating my inner monsters, I’m destroying myself.

Showing myself any kindness would mean to be showing kindness to the same person who’s done disgusting things.

But I’ve grown.

I’ve made effort to be a better person than I used to be. And I plan to continue to improve myself.

But I still did those disgusting things…

I am so sorry for them.

I am sorry to the girl whose boyfriend I kissed. I am sorry I never owned up to it just because he asked me to stay quiet. I am sorry that I pretended it wasn’t my fault. But I will never do anything like that again, which I know can never erase the pain I caused, but I forgive myself. I am deserving of love, even though I took it from someone else.

I am sorry to my best friend who I abruptly cut out of my life. I am so sorry that I abandoned you in your crisis moment without any explanation. I am sorry I never reached out again. But I have learned how to articulate my thoughts better, so in future relationships I can handle situations more maturely. I know that will never erase the pain I caused you, but I forgive myself. I am deserving of support, even though I was unable to give it to you.

I am sorry to the professors and peers that I disappointed. I’m sorry that I was unequipped to handle my stress. I am sorry that I took it out on you when it wasn’t always entirely your fault. But I have a better understanding of how my anxieties work, so I can be a more reliable collaborator in the future. I know this cannot erase the poor quality of work I presented, but I forgive myself. I am deserving of success, even though I failed you.

I could keep going, but these are kinda personal, and I think you guys get the point.

I deserve to grow as a person. I am allowed to be better than I have been in the past. I don’t need to destroy myself over of previous mistakes. I have learned and grown since then. I deserve to move on.

I did horrible things. They weren’t okay. They never will be okay. I regret them deeply. And I’ll never change that pain I’ve caused.

But I forgive myself.

I am releasing myself from the chains of my self-made prison.

Because it’s time to let go.