Dear Self,

I’ve been holding onto a lot and I’ve got to get it out. I’m mad —mostly at myself. I’m mad because I lost over six years of my life. I’m mad that I didn’t say no or ask for help sooner. And yeah, I’m mad that I’m mad.

I’m sad that I let it go on for as long as it did. It hurts that I hurt way too many people. I hurt myself over and over again. Except, I didn’t see it that way for a long time. I couldn’t. I couldn’t see anything. I couldn’t do anything either —well, besides living like a junkie. I was really good at that.

So yeah, I’m sad about that too and I’m sad that I’m sad.

It’s like the figurative bases were loaded in the game of life. I had one walk to win the game and one out to lose it all. The metaphorical pitcher releases the ball from his glove as gravity accelerates it straight into my bat. It’s like everything was set in place for me to succeed. I was supposed to succeed. Like all I had to do was hit the damn ball.

But I couldn’t even do that.

I recall wearing shoes I could never fill or at least that’s how it felt. So I’d snort a line instead. One part of me knows I wouldn’t be the girl I am today without all this shit. I’d probably still be that snobby ass bitch with no life experience. Honestly though, despite that, sometimes it just hurts so much that I can’t help but get angry.

And I know it’s better now than yesterday.

But it still feels as if something is missing. Like when I hear or see something that brings me back, the hurt—my past, it’s just too much to handle. I try to turn it off but it’s always there. Whether it’s full force or simply lingering in the background, I can’t deny the fact that even though that’s not me anymore, all of it still happened.

Starting today though, I’m going to try a little harder.

I’m going to put in some effort to mend what’s broken externally like all the relationships and people I fucked over —especially my family. I need to forgive my sister. I forgive her for trying to control me. I thank her for saving me. I need to forgive my dad. I forgive him for yelling and screaming and leaving. I thank him for protecting me. I need to forgive my mom. I forgive her for doubting me. I thank her for choosing me. Right now though, I’m going to start on the inside. Because in order to heal, we must first forgive.

And sometimes, the person we need to forgive most is ourselves.

Here goes nothing. 

I forgive myself for stealing my family’s stuff and then pawning it for drugs. I forgive myself for selling drugs and putting myself into some pretty stupid situations for those same fucking drugs. I forgive myself for manipulating people just to get what I wanted, which was probably more drugs. And even though, I said I was happy, there wasn’t an inch of my body that meant it. So yeah, I’m sorry for trying to take away my family’s second-born daughter.

Today, I forgive myself for slitting my wrists in an effort to end my life. I wasn’t thinking about anyone but myself —let alone what my loss would feel like to those who still loved me. I think it was more so a cry for help, which luckily didn’t work. Oh and that reminds me. I forgive myself for messing up every single friendship I once had. I spent a lifetime building and earning these people’s trust, only to have it taken away (through no fault but my own).

I was way too addicted to see that they were just trying to help.

I forgive myself for lying. I forgive myself for pretending my boyfriend and I (at the time) were anything but addicts. I made it seem like we were happy and healthy and if anybody said otherwise, they were the crazy one. Truth is, it was me the whole time. I was the addict. I was the crazy one.

It’s just —things got so out of control. I didn’t like the girl I had become. I don’t think I ever really did. I don’t know why. I don’t know why I still hurt. I don’t know why I’m still in pain. I don’t know why all of this shit still matters. For some reason, I can’t seem to let certain things go. What the fuck am I holding on too? Why can’t I forget? I’m starting to forgive. Really I do but I can’t misremember. Will I ever? I’m not sure.

What I am certain of is that I’m sorry for hating everybody and everything especially the girl inside me. I fucking hated Macey back then. I’m sorry for never thinking I was good enough. I am. Turns out, I was the entire time. And so, I have to forgive myself for not wanting to be alone so much so that I settled for whatever cute face wanted to stare back at me.

Except, normally he wasn’t staring for the right reasons.

Naturally, I probably wasn’t either. I’d always pick these loser boys that ended up taking me down with them. I brought myself down far enough, I didn’t need a guy to do that for me and I definitely didn’t need to go any further than I already was. But when you don’t think you deserve any better, you stay, which is exactly what I did and continued to do for a very long time. I don’t know why I wanted them. I don’t know why I thought I needed them so badly.

I think it was because I rated myself based on how many people were around. Basically, it was quantity over quality. To me, more was always better. Luckily today, it’s the reverse. I know it’s about the depth of things and not how many you have. Like I’d rather have one good person in my corner than 10 fake ones. However, it took me a very long time to get to this place. And so, back then, I chose him and not me.

In fact, I kept choosing him —even after he clearly chose more drugs over me. I couldn’t dispute his actions though because I had done the exact same thing. Like I used to be the girl who stole your drugs and when you’d realize your stash was gone, I’d also be the girl helping you look for it. I was the thief. I was the liar. But today, I say I’m sorry because that’s not me anymore. It never really was. So yeah, I forgive myself for taking things without asking.

I forgive myself for having zero intentions of giving it back. I robbed silver and electronics from my sister. I stole jewelry and pills from my mom. And I stole my father’s time. I’m sorry. It all started because I was merely trying to have fun. I didn’t mean to burden or hurt anyone. I never realized how much my actions or lack thereof affected so many people.

Honestly, I didn’t think anyone cared.

Frankly, I thought I was doing them a favor. Turns out though, I was hurting them by wasting away. It’s just, I didn’t think life was worth it anymore. I was waking up but was I actually living? I think not. It felt like I was already a corpse. I thought, why not make it official? So yeah, I forgive myself for thinking everyone was better off without me. I thought I was better off dead.

I was sick and tired of being sick and tired and annoyed AF of feeling so GOD damn lousy all the time. I was way too embarrassed to tell anyone what I was really up too and how I was truly feeling. So, I made it seem like I didn’t care when in fact, I cared too much. I think that’s why I craved a certain type of paralysis. I needed to be numb. I couldn’t handle what I had to do to get my pills but I also couldn’t deal with the idea of not having them.

So it was the same thing every time.

And even when I didn’t like it anymore, I couldn’t stop. At the same time, I didn’t want to stop. Ultimately, I didn’t know how too. I literally thought I’d feel this way forever. And, when I couldn’t deal, I’d snort another line. I didn’t need anyone or anything as long as I had my pills. So yeah, I’m sorry about that too. I’m sorry for all the shit I had to do in order to stay high. I thought I was helping myself heal. I really did. Except, the reality is, I was making it worse.

But you couldn’t tell me that. You couldn’t tell me anything. And I certainly couldn’t do anything without snorting another pill. It’s because of those pills that I lost myself. My addiction took on a life of its own. My existence was no longer about me. It was about doing and getting my hands on as many pills as I possibly could. I was a fucking animal. I lost my mind just as I lost 50 fucking pounds. And somehow, I still thought I was fat.

I’m sorry about that.

I’m sorry for hating my physical self so GOD damn much. I’m sorry for purposely skipping meals and depriving myself of food. I’m sorry for always comparing what I looked like to everybody else. I’m sorry for wanting what others had. I am who I am and shouldn’t that be enough? You’d think but it wasn’t. And yet, it was. I just didn’t know it. So yeah. I forgive myself for thinking 87.5 pounds was a good look for this 5’8 twenty-something chick.

I forgive myself for snorting poison instead of eating food. I just kept telling myself that tomorrow I’d stop. One more night and I won’t do it again. This is the last time. Except it never was. But I’d pretend. I was really good at that. Basically, I’d go in fucking circles —talking myself on and off the ledge. It was a vicious cycle and at the time, it wasn’t just a saying. It was my everyday. Ultimately though, the addict in me was too powerful for anything else.

So what do you know? I’d do another line. That part of me won every time. I realize now that although I had good intentions, willpower alone cannot stop an addiction. It felt like I sold my soul to the devil and there was no getting it back. I did the crime but I wasn’t prepared to do the time. I thought I was cool like some badass bitch when, in fact, I was a loser. I was a junkie loser the whole time. So yeah, I’m sorry I told everyone that I was ready when I wasn’t.

I’m sorry for failing you all yet again. Truly, I’m sorry. You know what though? I think because I’m sorry, that it’s OK to feel bad but it’s also OK to move on. I need to let go. I need to let go of the girl I used to be. I need to stop with this resentment shit. I need to forgive myself. Luckily today, I fucking do. Because eventually, I realized just how badly I did, in fact, want it. I’ve always known I needed it but I didn’t know I actually wanted it. Turns out, I wanted it the whole time.

I think I wanted it so bad that it hurt.

And maybe that’s why it still does. It’s like, I know my past is in the past. I know that’s not me anymore but because it once was, it took a while to get here. I have to remember though that forgiveness isn’t a noun. It’s a verb like an action. I have to actively take steps to not only forget the hurt I feel but to forgive. What’s done is done. I can’t get it back. But I can move on. I can let go. I can live despite the shit I used to do. So, I started over. And I realized, it wasn’t the end. It was my chance for a new beginning.

I just didn’t know it at the time. So yeah. I’m trying. And if I fail, like if I fall, I’m going to keep trying. I’m going to keep getting back up and then I’ll try some more. What about you? Maybe you’re not ready yet. That’s OK. For me, I had to go through hell and back multiple times to get here. It took everything to say the word forgiveness and even more to actually mean it.

The thing is, forgiveness doesn’t mean what happened is OK. It just means that type of hurt doesn’t have to control your life. I know I was an awful person. No matter how healed I am today, I can’t take that away. But by choosing to forgive, I’m making peace with the pain of my past. And that’s when I realized, this is how I let go. This is how I move on. So this is me telling you if you’ve been waiting for a sign —here it is.

Forgive yourself.

Because as American contemporary Christian musician, singer-songwriter, and actor, Matthew West once said, “It’ll clear the bitterness away. It can even set a prisoner free. There is no end to what its power can do.” So let it go and be amazed by what you see through eyes of grace. Because the prisoner that it really frees is you.

xoxo,

macey bee