Acceptance

I try not to think of how it began but some days it's all I can think about.  I look at my family and see such normalcy.  I see a sister who is a healthy stay at home mom, she runs marathons for fun.  I am jealous of her.  I do not regret that I protected her.  At least one of us had a chance.  How is it possible to love the people who hurt and betrayed you the most?  I know I had no choice.  I was a child who found a way to survive.  I learned to associate love with pain.  It's amazing what an adult can overlook.  My teachers saw me come to school so damaged.  No one ever helped.  I started hurting myself by the age of 12 (give or take a year).  Punching (breaking my own bones), cutting (my favorite), burning, scratching.

I lost my virginity to a gang rape.  Of course I partially blame myself for that, too.  I shouldn't have been drinking, right?  I put myself in the situation.  It never would have happened if I hadn't played my part in putting myself at risk.

My first "adult" relationship was fueled by drugs and abuse.  I found what I knew.  The drugs made it tolerable.

I never sought help until my twenties.  I didn't think I was doing anything wrong. 

I'm drug free, for now.  I'm married to a wonderful man.  I have a relationship with my family.  I've spent many, many months in psych hospitals.  I attempted suicide 3 times.  I've been on over 20 different medications.  Now I take 4 a day.  I've been diagnosed with so many different "illnesses".  Bipolar, Major Depression, PTSD, Anxiety Disorder and Borderline Personality Disorder  (the one that has stuck over the years).   I still hurt myself (when needed).  But I am alive, today.  I am in love.  I take my pills every day (or else I end up in the hospital). 

I have learned acceptance.  This doesn't bring happiness or any other fairy tale ending but it does help me get through the day.