This Is Not An Apology

I hurt people.

I hurt people close to me; my parents, my sister, my family & friends. People who truly loved me. People who worried sick about me when I stole away, without warning or word, for days.

I lied. I lied a lot. There are other things I did too, stories for another time. Back then, I didn’t care what happened to me; others suffered as a result.

I pictured my mother sobbing at the news of my death; I hovered over the crowd at my own funeral like a spirit. Those images, and the horror they were tied to, frightened me enough to stay alive. In a weird way, it was their love that saved me several times, even though I was alone and cut off from contact.

Do you know what that is? That is empathy; the ability to feel what others might be feeling. Hold on to that for later, it is one of your strengths. Even if you can’t, or won’t, feel anything for yourself right now.

The first step is to get yourself help. The single best thing you can do if your pain has caused someone else hurt, is to get yourself better. They will be OK. They will never forget, but they can go on with their lives if you can live yours.

This is not an apology, though some of the people I mentioned may be reading. I apologized a long time ago. This is something else. The distant past is telling me I need to write about it. It’s not done with me.

Perhaps you haven’t hurt anyone; perhaps you have no circle of support like I did. That doesn’t mean you can’t keep reading for one more day.

Tomorrow’s post is not going to be the cure for depression. It will just be a story that I hope you can connect to.

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