I Had a Relapse

(And That's OK)

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Disclaimer: If it causes you discomfort to read about the “socially unacceptable” ways a person copes with their pain in this sick society, then please take a pass on this post. But if you can hold compassion for my understandable human action - then, thank you. 

I’ve self-injured since I was 15.

I recently had a relapse. Let’s talk about why. 

Last year I had a brief friendship that broke my heart. Grief beat my ass for months. I’ve made peace with the experience. (Kinda?) However, there are moments when the ache of loss consumes me. This past week, I was consumed. 

I cut when I am overwhelmed by pain.

Watching the world burn while I attempt to hold my own life together with spit and glitter has been harsh.

Please be clear - I can handle pain. I can handle pain. 

But this? I am unable to cope. 

I think this experience is back because April is when we met last year. Or perhaps it’s because healing isn’t linear and gives zero fucks if it adheres to the inhuman timeline our society had placed on our very human grief. 

Who can say? 

Last year, out of despair and hopelessness, I wrote a post on LinkedIn where I shared my emotional need. The post simply said: 

I need someone to hold me.

I need someone to make me soup.

I need someone to sit on the sofa while we read.

I need someone to let me cry without trying to fix it.

I need someone to listen to my hurt without saying a word.

A recent connection quickly sent a DM that said “I can do that. There’s a flight tomorrow, say the word and I’ll be there.” My desperation overrode my sense of safety and Black ass discernment. 

She was there the next day. 

She made soup. We sat on the sofa. She held me while I cried. 

The only words she said as I wept in here arms were “I got you.”  I needed that human connection in a way that I can’t even express. And no, it wasn’t sexual - but it was intimate. Society has shamed us out of intimacy in our platonic relationships and I think that really sucks. 

Over the next few months, she flew out to see me nearly every weekend. Often she’d fly out for the day. I never asked. She always initiated. 

Ma’am, why are you paying thousands of dollars for plane tickets and making the choice to spend your precious time with me? With ME? My brain could not comprehend her kindness. 

Please don’t misunderstand - I’m a damn delight to be around. With that said, no one has ever made that level of intentional effort to be in my life. My own parents weren’t even that invested. Their lack of enthusiasm is why I accept any crumb of care thrown my way.  

As for my friend, she felt like an answer to years of anguished prayers. 

Her support wasn’t only emotional, it was financial as well. To keep it a buck, she was incredibly generous. She was generous to the point that for the first time in my entire life, my basic needs were met. One day she said “wait, you deserve joy too” and she started to gift me experiences that brought delight to my life. 

My weary heart was content. 

The financial support temporarily enhanced the physical quality of my life. But it was her friendship that improved the emotional quality of my existence.

The way she loved me made we want to live.

I understand that we aren’t intended to depend on other people for our happiness and I appreciate the sentiment but, I reject that. I’ve done life alone for five decades. I am a delicate flower, dammit. I need human connection.

I was not meant to do life on my own, none of us were.

As I think back, it’s doesn’t surprise me that I cracked my heart wide open to her. She showed me a level of care that I had never experienced. 

And ok, sure. She nearly destroyed me in the end but whatever, it’s fine. IT’S FINE. Regardless of how it ended, I’ll always be grateful to her for teaching me how it feels to be genuinely accepted, cherished and validated.

I’m thankful to have true friends who love me. However, the reality is that often they don’t have the resources, time or capacity to show up the way she did. Instead, show up in the ways we can - and that’s ok. Many of us are stretched thin, and for real, I understand that. It doesn’t diminish the love we share. And yet, there are times when my heart yearns for more, and that’s ok too.

Why did the friendship end? Chile, who knows. 

• She invited me to move to her neighborhood

• She started the process to rent me an apartment until I moved to Mexico

• She offered to lend me one of her cars (who has “extra” cars?) 

• She wanted to give me the space to focus on my writing

• And then, she disappeared without a word 

Humans gonna human.

I actually believed the continual Cycle of Suck™ I’d been stuck in was about to end and, oh. You sweet summer child. Absolutely not.

Why did I spiral towards self-harm? 

Because the old bullshit beliefs circled back with a fierceness. 

• I labeled myself as broken

• I felt the loss of her presence

• I believed I was unworthy of care

• I questioned if I’d ever feel connected again

• I started to hate myself for ruining the relationship

It scary how real the lies often feel.

But also, the stress of existing in chronic poverty every damn day for decades has trashed my emotional and physical health. Regulated nervous system? Don’t know her. Stress is deadly for Black women. The fear that I’ll drop dead from a heart attack at 49 is real and valid. I wrote about how I sincerely believed I was having a heart attack recently. My point is, there are days when I need an outlet for the physical pain of my relentless financial trauma.

But lemme stay focused.

Why she left doesn’t matter anymore, that’s for her to deal with. 

What matters is why it continues to make me feel like a disposable piece of trash an entire year later. Perhaps the lesson in this was to remind myself that I’m still worthy of love and deserving of care.

That’s why the DayCount app is back on day 1 - and for the last time, that’s ok. 

To end this heavy post on a lighter note, please accept this video from one of my favorite podcasts (The Moth) as an offer of softness.

Take care of yourselves and each other out there.