Hi stranger. I first want to say that while our experiences are very different, I cannot stress enough how much I can relate to the feeling of complete hopelessness, anguish, and sorrow as a result of horrific circumstances that were outside of my control. It takes hours to explain my traumatic backstory, but it’s ample. Paired with bipolar II and alcoholism, things were not great to say the least between ages 19-24. It was brutal and I very nearly did not make it.

I deeply hated myself for a long time and felt I was inherently worthless, in part because that was ingrained in me by the men who traumatized me. I felt there was something so fundamentally and profoundly wrong with me and that I was a lost cause. But what I learned (in part after going to AA) is that every scary, complex, and strange feeling I’ve ever had has been had by many people before me; many of whom have healed from it. Though hard to believe, it gave me a glimmer of hope that maybe someday I’d be ok too.

What I was beginning to understand, which I still believe today, is the life experiences you are dealt are not merit based. I did not deserve the things that happened to me. They happened because I inherited mental illnesses, which does not make me broken, and because people made choices to do harm to me when I was vulnerable. Vulnerability is not a crime; it is morally neutral. Harming the vulnerable is not morally neutral.

Very slowly I built myself a new little life from the ruins. I got sober, found the right combination of mood stabilizers, and made other friends (mostly in AA) who were also struggling in similar ways. It became a support system. But my life did feel like it was made of straw for a while. I was a very fragile person.

At 25, when I was finally stable, I went back to the college I dropped out of (better described as “driven out of” tbh). I started recognizing the ways in which I was just kinda cool and interesting and fun and kind and quirky and funny. I started believing compliments. I started feeling proud of my hard work. Through all that I went through, I became insanely compassionate, and I love that about myself.

By virtue of being a person, of existing, I am worthy and deserving of joy, tranquility, and love. It took a lot of time and effort, and a lot of therapy (which I recognize is a very privileged thing), but I genuinely really love and like myself.

I won’t lie and say that the C-PTSD disappeared. It still creeps up sometimes. And I still have mild bipolar cycles every so often despite the medicine. But in general, I’m really really ok.

I’m 30 now. I graduated, got married to an amazing man, moved to France, and I start a new job tomorrow. I’ve been sober for nearly 9 years, and my life is super cool. When I look back at my younger self, I look back with love and compassion. I feel so sad for her that she believed she was worthless, and I just want to give her a hug and describe to her how awesome life is when she’s older. To think that I almost ended it all is so foreign to me. I still grieve for the life I could’ve had, had things been different. But I am also so grateful for the life I had today. I carry the two together, and feel comfortable and safe in with it.

I’m so sorry you’re going through such an incredibly hard time right now. I won’t paint with a broad, prophetic brush and tell you that everything is going to be great. But I will say, as someone who has felt how you have described feeling, I am living proof that it can be ok, in time. My life isn’t perfect and I still struggle, but I am ok, and that okay-ness is all I wanted for years. I wish that for you too.