5 Years

So much has changed in five years. I went from feeling worthless and running for my life with only my two pet cats and a rusty Nissan to graduating college, starting my writing career and finding the man of my dreams. I was with this really abusive guy for four and a half years and in that time he stripped me of my identity and my dignity. He made me believe I was worth less than dirt. He made my life a living hell. I had friends who would tell me to leave but I was too afraid. 

Afraid I wouldn’t amount to anything. Afraid I wouldn’t find someone else to love me. Afraid I would turn out a failure. Afraid I would be alone forever. 

I’m so glad I got away from him. 

When I look back I wish I would have left sooner. I wish I could go back in time and tell that scared broken girl that she is loved so much and there is so much more to life than feeling miserable and alone and with someone who makes you feel that way everyday. 

What saved my life was my writing. 

I sat at my desk everyday and I wrote fan fiction from one of my favorite video games. I engrossed myself in the story and the characters. I shaped them into successful, deeply feeling individuals. It was the only thing I could control at the time and it brought me so much joy. Finally I had found the spark again. The will to live. That was when I started to think about leaving. 

It took me another two years to finally make my escape. I bought a rusty old Canadian issued Nissan Sentra and packed up as much as I could fit inside it and never looked back. 

The aftermath was the hardest part. 

I was afraid every moment that he would come after me but in reality I was the one keeping myself hostage. I started drinking and smoking pot almost daily to cope with my fears. I would write the most depressing things as the moonlight shines through my bedroom window. I felt so alone in my misery. 

I finally said enough was enough and I checked myself into a mental health facility. I remember that morning so vividly. I drank my morning coffee like it was my life source and chained smoked bowl after bowl. I felt so terrified that I would try to hurt myself and I couldn’t let that happen. I had come so far and I wasn’t about to let myself end it all. 

Eight hours past that day at Netcare and I’ll never forget the experience waiting in the intake area where you fill out paperwork and they make you take off your shoes and take away your belongings. It was so dehumanizing. I felt like I didn’t matter at all and my well-being wasn’t important. 

There was a patient there who decided he was going to talk to me and by talk I mean harass and my harass I mean put his hands on me and make me feel completely helpless and frozen in fear. 

I got the hell out of there as soon as I could. Not without a list of resources that I could get in contact with in order to get the help I so desperately needed. 

A few weeks went by and I finally was sitting in front of a therapist. His name was Justin and he made me feel seen and validated. He listened to me sob and sob while I told him the deepest darkest parts of myself and everything that has happened to me that led me to this exact moment. He was the one who gave me my diagnosis of borderline personality disorder. Everything made sense at that moment. 

The fear of abandonment, the impulsivity, the spiraling thoughts and emotions that I could never pull myself out of. It all made sense but then once I got the news of my disease I became obsessed with learning about it to the point where it consumed me. I let the disorder own me. I over analyzed everything I thought, said and did to the point where I didn’t know who I was anymore. I named myself my disorder. It had me trapped under its claws and I couldn’t escape. I wanted to break free from the belief that I was unfixable and unworthy. Unworthy of love and happiness. Unworthy of a meaningful existence in this world. 

For a while I thought I was okay. I graduated college with my bachelors of English and started living my life – or so I thought. 

My drinking got steadily worse and worse. I wouldn’t go to work drunk or hide liquor anywhere but it seemed like everyday was a struggle and the only solution I saw in front of me was Modelo and Jose Quervo. I knew I wasn’t supposed to drink while I took my meds but I didn’t care. All I cared about was drowning the bad thoughts away and numbing myself to the pain. 

Rock bottom came one night about three months after my dad died of colon cancer. My boyfriend had just left me and moved all his things out of our tiny apartment off Cleveland Ave. I drove home from work recklessly without my seatbelt blaring Pink Floyd and Radiohead. 

When I got home I went to the fridge and pulled out a tall Modelo and took the bottle of pills my psychiatrist prescribed and I downed the bottle by the handful. I spent the rest of the night scribbling suicide letters to my mom and my ex. All I wanted to do was go to sleep and wake up with my dad next to me. 

By some miracle I didn’t die that night. 

My mother was worried and called for a wellness check and my ex sped over to my apartment to find me scribbling my letters and sobbing. I was both relieved and mortified. Look at what I had become. I was a mess and out of the will to live. I wanted to die that night but I’m glad I didn’t. 

The next three days I spent in a mental health facility where I was carefully watched by many medical professionals alongside other patients. When I was there I learned that I was the only one that could make me happy. I learned that I was sick and I needed help with dealing with my dad’s death and my abandonment issues. 

Monday July, 12 2021 

Today I had my intake appointment with Dennis at my new therapist office. I think it went really well. Dennis made me feel validated and heard. He told me I was intelligent and had a good head on my shoulders.  He asked me if I journal and suggested I write down my experience. He told me to tell myself that even though I’ve been through a lot that I’m not a failure and I never was. I have so many accomplishments in my life that I should be proud of. 

I want to focus on the good and let go of the past because it no longer serves me. The past hasn’t served me for a long time and I’ve spent too much time dwelling and putting myself down because of the past. I deserve love and to be happy. I deserve a good life and to feel confident in my own skin. 

You deserve love. You deserve a meaningful existence and to live life to the maximum. I hope wherever you are you know how amazing and loved you are. I hope you have people in your corner that support you and make you feel valued. I hope wherever you are you know your worth and the indescribable power you possess. 

And if you don’t I hope you reach out to someone for help. 

800-273-8255 (suicide prevention hotline) 

Take care, 

Maggie xo

By itsmaggie92

Hi I'm Maggie and I'm a 28 year old cat lady that loves writing and anything fun and adventurous.

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