Wait, I can be broken and still be loved?

(You can find parts 1 and 2 of my backstory here)

Shortly before I graduated high school, when things were just at an all time low for me, I was basically in self preservation mode. I was doing anything I could think of just to survive. I had just gotten out of that 3 year relationship with my then boyfriend, we’ll call him B, and was just lost after everything that had gone on, and was still going on.

One of my friends had mentioned that his friend was starting a youth group, and that we should go check it out. I had no intentions of doing so. I am like…the definition of an introvert, and I hate groups of people. (Still do.) But he convinced me, I met some people, and life just sort of…well, took on a life of its own at that point.

I truly believe that this next chapter in my life, the people that I met, saved me. They were exactly, 100% who and what I needed. (That is, of course, until even that ended up becoming my most painful experience to date. We’ll get there.) I was 17 at the time, and again, if you read my previous posts, you’ll see I was clearly and desperately in NEED of love and positive attention.

I’ve always preferred the company of (slightly) older people to people my own age. I just never could relate to my peers, as, frankly, they didn’t have the life experience I did yet. Subconsciously, I think I was always searching for a mother figure. I met Jen very early on at this youth group. Honestly, I didn’t pay much attention to her, I was probably cowering in the corner filled with anxiety, but that’s okay.

Jen was 22, 5 years older than me. I don’t remember what happened or how, but very, very quickly, she made me feel so safe and just…okay. She was so gentle and loving and nurturing and literally…she became my best friend and basically the pseudo mom I always needed. Through Jen, I met, we’ll call him S. S was 23, and he too, was everything I needed and more. I can’t even explain it. The support these 2 gave me, all the shit they put up with from me, they literally took me in and just loved me back to life. It was amazing and incredible and I have all the love in the world for them for this, even now.

Jen remained my best friend for the next 4ish years, up until late 2015. My relationship with S turned quickly into a deep, and I mean deep emotional connection. I was full force dealing with insomnia, ptsd, depression, anxiety, had very recently attempted suicide, and was drinking a lotttttttt. S held the space for me to talk openly and honestly, knew when to push and just when to let me be. I have never before felt safe to actually talk about my feelings and emotions. Like, holy shit, I’m actually allowed to say how I feel?! He stayed up with me until 2am or later on way too many occasions. When I turned 18 we started officially dating.

For the first time in my life, I could be me. I could express how I was feeling. I could tell them all the ways I was fucking up, and they loved me anyway. They knew about my drinking, cutting, smoking, they knew it all and I didn’t feel like I had to hide my darkest, trust self from them. They loved me anyway.

I graduated high school (they even showed up at my graduation; hey, I didn’t even want to be there!) after a month long stint inpatient for yet another suicide attempt, or at least, close enough to one. I don’t remember. That month deserves a post entirely on its own though.

I think we’ll end it here for now. I’ll pick up next time with the good old times in the loony bin, my first and only experience. (Really though, it was kind of great in its own fucked up way.)

Life goes on, guys. It does. Look at all of this shit that went on in my past (that I’ve gotten to so far!) and I’m still here. I’m still fighting.

If you’re out there and reading this, how are you doing? Are you fighting for yourself right now, is there something you’re struggling with? Let me know. I want this to turn into a community just like my previous blog did. I’m here.

I hope you’re hanging in there too. We got this.

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