Spirit Day, and what “better” looks like to me
Not sure how it is that this morning I had no purple anything to wear, but that was my closet’s verdict this morning. Being an enterprising lad, I grabbed some yarn and needles and whipped a little something up for Spirit Day.
If you’re young and suffering, know that I’m thinking of you. Not just today, but always. Know that there are places you can go and people you can talk to - The Trevor Project is amazing - and people who’ve felt like you do now and have made it. People like Dan Savage, Kate Bornstein, Tim Gunn, and Buck Angel have been there, and they talk about it on YouTube.
I spent a lot of time in counseling as a teenager for being suicidal. I was bullied and excluded. I didn’t fit. I was trying to figure out who I was and had no language or support for it. Looking back, there were well-meaning people in my life who wanted very badly to help me figure things out but lacked the savvy and imagination to do it.
That sucked a lot. I’m lucky - so lucky - that the Internet was starting to thrive when I hit high school. I wonder sometimes if I’d have survived without it.
I’m glad I made it. Looking back at what and who I was up against, I’m glad I didn’t let Them win. The people who treated me badly, the people who didn’t understand, the people who didn’t help…I would not give my life to any of them. I’m glad I fought.
It’s hard, sometimes, for me to contextualtize what “better” looks like. I suffer from what is most likely an inherited combination of depression and anxiety disorders. Some days, my threshold for “better” is simply continuing to be alive: putting one foot ahead of the other, drawing breath, and stubbornly refusing to give up even if it is very, very hard not to fall down.
So far, I always have. I hope that I always will.
Those days, awful as they are, are still “better” partly because I’m choosing. If all I can control is that the fuckers haven’t yet crushed the breath from my lungs, then that is my light and my toehold in clawing my way back to the surface.
Which does happen. A lot, even. And, more importantly, it can only happen if I keep breathing, keep fighting, and keep kicking ass until I’m back above ground.
Other things that got better when I got out of high school and moved away:
- More self-determination. I could choose my own friends, choose my own activities, decide (within budget, obv.) what to eat or not eat, etc. I can see the movies I want, read the books that I want, listen to the music I want, and I really don’t have to justify that to anyone. (Sometimes it might FEEL that way, but that’s because I have really opinionated friends.)
- More room for reflection, experimentation, and self-understanding. One of the struggles I had living with my family is that family thinks they know who you are (or who you should be), and enforce it constantly.
- More opportunities for self-discipline and self-sufficiency. I don’t think most people are ever wholly independent - I share expenses with a roommate and my mom - but I’m not as indebted to people who might use that (benignly or otherwise) as a method of control. What I get from others isn’t a hand-out anymore, or an allowance. I come by things fairly, or earn them.
- People really do get better. Not universally, and not always as much as one might like, but on the whole it’s easier as an adult to self-select my own cohort of people, or expect civility at work, etc.
- We really do get better. Perspective and experience are such awesome things. Living well involves learning lots of little skills, and the better you get at them, the easier some things get.
You deserve to live. You deserve the chance to go out and have your own life. Bullies, people who don’t get you, abusers, etc. do not deserve your life. Don’t give it to them.
Find help. Find friends. Find someone to trust and talk to them. Plan and prepare for your glorious next steps. It isn’t always easy, but I promise it gets better.
This post has been mirrored from Christian A. Young's Dimlight Archive. To see it in its original format, visit dimlightarchive.com