[Names have been changed to protect the innocent]
Daisy is tough.
“When a guy gyps me, I gyp the guy!”
She has a hard outer shell. She doesn’t want anyone to think she can’t take care of herself, that she is weak. She is strongly independent and shrugs off the notion of help.
But there are many ways to be a badass.
Knowing you have to go to treatment is badass.
Going to treatment is badass.
Staying engaged in treatment is badass.
It takes strength to go to groups and talk about recovery. One or two seems pretty easy but it is real work to keep doing it day after day, facing myself and my issues.
Ir takes strength to reach out and ask for help, to admit that I need to talk to someone, that I need that support. Other people are scary. They hold the power to reject and hurt me, They can be terribly cruel. They can wound. I wish my history didn’t have supporting documentation for these beliefs.
But people are also kind and generous, open and honest. Some of my best friends are people. I find them enormously confusing, overwhelming at times but necessary. I especially need people for connection, people who care and people that understand the pain of what I experience.
Treatment is a place to practice this reaching out. I’m surrounded by people who I can trust. In many ways, it’s like living in a bubble, a supportive place to begin to heal and change.
This time is necessary, required.
I’m grateful to be in a war with other soldiers that are badass.
Recovery is badass.