i won't tell you to "get over it."

[A4A] [Script Offer] I won’t tell you to “get over it.” [Comfort] [Reassuring] [whatever you’re going through sucks] [i won’t try to downplay that] [you can heal at your own pace, on your own terms]

I wish the narrative of “you’re a warrior, you’re so brave for surviving this” was helpful to me right now. Sometimes it helps (I’m guilty of saying it to others too), but at the moment, it kind of makes me nauseous. I know it’s meant to be encouraging and kind, but all I can think when I hear it right now is, “I don’t want to be brave. I don’t want to feel these things anymore. I just want this to go away, so don’t tell me I’m strong, because I don’t feel strong and quite frankly, what does being strong have to do with any of this?”

Sorry. Maybe that was unpleasant to read. My head’s been an unpleasant place to be, but one of the lifeboats I create for myself is to try and make something of the pain. If you’re going through shit, whatever form that may take, I hope my words can be even a tiny bit helpful.

I know my head will clear sooner or later; I’m putting in the work to get myself back into shape. I’m sorry to be all dark & gloomy in this already-too-long introduction, but I just wanted to be truthful to where this script is coming from.

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“Get over it.” It feels like that’s what the world is implicitly telling you everyday, doesn’t it?

There’s no time to process anything or to *really* feel all of your emotions. No, there’s always that looming assignment, the upcoming deadline, the social obligations, the people you don’t want to worry, or worse, disappoint.

So, you do your best. You drag yourself to work or to class, and you put on a performance. When they carefully venture to ask how you’re doing, you smile and say you’re getting better with each day. After all, that’s what they want to hear when they ask, right?

Maybe someone asks you to hang out, and you’re grateful, so you say yes. You even manage to show up after debating with yourself on whether you should just cancel or not. Hell, maybe you even *enjoy* yourself a bit while you’re there. It’s a nice distraction, and for a brief time, while you were pretending to be okay, things really did feel okay.

But… you know the heartbreak of coming home and realizing that it’s still there. Those feelings or memories you’d managed to forget about. Once you’re alone, it all comes rushing back and you feel like you’re back at square one…

[deep breath] Look… I can’t know exactly what it is you’re going through, but at the very least, I want to tell you that you don’t have to “get over” anything. Some shit stays with you. It can change forms and grow deeper or become lighter. Some days it’s small and doesn’t affect you at all, but other days it’s all encompassing and you *have* to look it in the face.

The truth is, not everything can be completely conquered or resolved, and we both know that’s not fair… but I think it’s much more unfair to ourselves to keep imagining and hoping for that one day, when this thing will magically disappear for good and *finally* it will be completely behind us.

Healing is not a linear process. It’s okay to have your good days and your bad days. When it comes back, it doesn’t mean you’ve lost all the progress you made. The growth you experienced doesn’t disappear because you’re struggling again. It just means that this stuff is… hard. *Really* hard.

So… it’s okay to take it slow. I sincerely hope that those around you understand that and give you the space to heal on your own terms… but even if they don’t, please allow *yourself* to have that, okay?

It’s okay to feel like it’s all just too much today. It’s okay to fuck up along the way. Just… *please* promise me you’ll forgive yourself enough to keep trying. I know what it’s like to wish and *wish* for a one-size-fits-all solution to this. Honestly, if I could, I’d still want to just make it all disappear… Unfortunately I just don’t think that’s how this works.

But you know what? I think you and I will learn how to live with it, whatever that “it” may be. It’s going to take a lot of trial and error, and patience, and compassion for ourselves… We’ll lose sight of ourselves sometimes, and we’ll feel defeated a lot of the time… it’s not always going to be forward-moving…

I’m sorry there’s not much of an optimistic end to this, but I also don’t want to downplay how difficult this is. I suppose I’ll leave it at this: there may not be a “final boss” you can claim victory over, but I hope you’ll find the small victories. I hope that, at the very least, it will become more bearable, and I hope that you know you’re not alone...