we hide,

and we run

Lately I've began to realize how much I changed and how much I'm still changing right now. And I'm honestly not complaining. I catch myself caring less about others and their opinion more and more often as well as starting to finally let go of the poisonous people that stuck to me for so long. A few month ago I moved to another country with the hope of recovery and a new beginning and while it didn't start out that promising, I'll have to admit that I'm finally getting there. There's about a handful of people from my past that I still text frequently and one third of them is my family, but even my parents don't hear from me that often anymore and that's okay, at least for me. I don't miss my 'old life' anymore, at least not as terribly as I did in the first weeks, because I reached a place inside, a kind of balance, that makes me feel happy with where I am right now. 

I love my family, but I'm starting to stop caring whether my dad thinks I'm good enough or my mum approves of my actions or whether my brother misses me as much as I miss him. I'm my own person and questioning myself from the perspective of others won't get me anywhere, I sure am happier caring less. Of course I still worry about these things, about their opinions, but they don't plague me, they can easily be ignored if they have to and that feels good. 

I love my friends, even those that I kicked out of my life, but what a fool would I be to surround myself with people who's words are poison, that make me feel sick nearly every minute I spend with them. In school I used to hang out with nearly everyone, having something in common with most people helps with that and it was nice, but I realize that it's not what I necessarily need. Sure, at college it is still sort of the same, but also different, because people here are generally more grown and respectful and just accept each other. It's nice to have people like me who got to know who I really am and not what my illness had me be for a while. And it's nice to have my handful of friends over in Germany who I still text daily and meet up with if college allows it, but who won't turn their back on me the moment I do something reckless.

I'm not saying I'm cured or on top of the world, but I'm good. Not only okay, but good. I miss the people I outlived and some times I still wish I had my dogs and my family close and some times things become too much and too heavy of a burden, but then I know where to go, because I'm always welcome at my home and always welcome at so many of my friend's places. Just knowing that no matter what happens I'll always have a place to go to is reassuring and makes living easier.

I'm honestly proud to say that I made it and that I can look into the mirror most of the days and see the person I used to be before my mental illness took away everything. And I'm even prouder to say that I like that person.

we get up,

and we fight,

and we live.