It was not my fault. But it was my responsibility.
There has been a lot in life I chose not to explore because I was afraid of what I would find. I’m not talking faraway lands or foreign soils; I’m talking unchartered territories that don’t require any physical movement to arrive at.
In a science magazine I was flipping through at the Dallas Fort Worth Airport, I turned the page to see a human brain resting in a gloved hand. While NYS public schools are not the best, I had indeed seen a human brain before this moment. But it still struck me with a force I did not appreciate at 5:30 in the morning.
I stared at the picture. The human brain, so big and yet so small. Wonderful things can happen in there. Beautiful things. But also things so terrifying your own nightmares don’t dare touch them.
I did not read the article. I couldn’t. The accompanying caption, however, stated that there was research going on in Switzerland that hoped to better understand psychiatric disorders.
That morning I had woken up in the same psychiatric trauma hospital I had spent the last two weeks in. But now I was going home. And as I stared at that human brain I realized that no amount of psychiatric treatment, no matter how intensive, would ever prepare me for all the things hidden within that dangerous organ.
It’s a blood-chilling thought that there are not enough resources in the world to save you from yourself.
I voluntarily admitted myself into that hospital when my breaking point whizzed by me, beating me to the threshold of July 2017. I had burned so many bridges; let my vices and subsequent torments drag everyone around me down. I was manipulative and in pain. I was selfish and scared.
But none of that gave me the right to hurt others.
My situation was not my fault; my biology, my disorders, that rainy day in November so many years ago.
I have suffered injustices that cannot be undone. But that doesn’t mean I can retaliate with actions and words that cannot be taken back.
These past 6 months in particular I have done cruel things to those I truly care about. I tangled them in my web of despair and then left them stuck and unable to help me. It was unfair to say the least.
And I am so, so, sorry.
Even in the hospital and in previous treatment centers, I have thoughtlessly made comments about my disregard for life that triggered and set off flashbacks in people who had plenty of their own ghosts. So why did I think it was okay to let mine out to play? It was like bringing a ravenous animal to a playground without a leash.
Throughout this past spring and early summer, I have lost close friends. I have lost them in ways I know are irreversible. There are no apologies grand enough, no heartfelt pleas for forgiveness worthy enough. For the first time in my life, I was crossing lines left and right. If I was aware of what I was doing at the time, I did not let myself feel it.
So again, I am sorry.
I am sorry that I got so caught up in pitying myself and making excuses that I forgot you all are human. That those I unloaded on were not trained psychiatrists.
The things that have happened to me, and the things that I thus far have survived, were not my fault. I work every day to believe that. There are evil people in this world, and the people who made me feel worthless after I came face to face with that evil, will not turn me heartless. Those who were meant to protect and serve failed me, but they will not lead me to fail others.
I am better than that.
It wasn’t my fault.
It isn’t my fault.
But it’s time to own the girl who came out the other side.