Recovery

This Is Not Beautiful

My freshman year of high school my mother received a call because I tried to kill myself and needed to be admitted to the hospital immediately. I have never see such a sadness in my mother's eyes like that. That night my older sister sat with me in the hospital bed and said, "I don't ever want to see you in a casket. I don't ever want to see you in this hospital bed again." I've never seen my sister cry before then. My sister walked out of the room so my brother could sit with me, and all he could manage to get out was the word, "Why?" Hospitals and suicide are not beautiful. 

I talked to an old friend last week, we lost touch due to me moving two states away. She told me she had to get her stomach pumped because she tried to overdose and poison herself with four bottles of alcohol. I remember when she used to spend the night and we used to always talk about how we would always be there for each other. I failed her. Overdose and alcoholism are not beautiful.

My junior year of high school, I had a best friend who dealt with anorexia and bulimia. I'll never forget the night I spent at her house and hear her throwing up. She was crying and kept telling herself to stick her fingers down further. When she came back to her bedroom, I held her for a long time and told her I loved her. We both cried and a few weeks later she went away for treatment. I haven't seen her since. When she first went away, her mom used to talk to me about it. I saw the same type of sadness in her eyes, like I saw in my mother's. Eating disorders are not beautiful.

My cousin shot herself in the head on the twenty-fourth of August two years ago. I missed three days of school. When I went to her funeral her mother hugged me and thanked me over and over for attending. I shouldn't have been there. None of us should have. The seats in the funeral home fled and there had to be 50+ people standing up because there were so many people. Funerals and caskets are not beautiful.

During my third hospital visit, I had a roommate that was absolutely gorgeous. I was so envious. She told me she was mad at herself for not cutting deeper. I told her I'm glad she didn't. As soon as the words ran off my tongue, she lunged into my arms. After a very long and emotional hug, she told me her mom didn't love her anymore. Utter sadness is not beautiful. 

Please take your romanticization and glamorization of self harm, and eating disorders, and committing suicide, and alcoholism, and sadness, and shove them up your ass as far as you fucking can. This is not beautiful. But, you know what? You are, and it's about goddamn time you start believing it.