I’ve been thinking about how I’m getting through my days and how I have two brothers who are struggling now. I’ve been so frustrated with the youngest one because he was JUST in rehab. But he was involuntarily committed and now I hear he’s still in a bit of his anger phase.
I’m trying to remember that nothing will turn him around until he WANTS to turn around. He won’t change until he WANTS to change.
My WANT came in two parts.
My first wave of WANT came after I got out of hospital when I tried to leave this life. I was sitting at my parents home, my kid sis was in arms reach of me for the entire day. I do remember when I got up to go pee. I shut the door, peed, pulled myself together and took a moment to just stand and catch my breath. But my sis was pounding on the door like there was fire. She was frantic. When I opened the door she was almost in tears. She thought I was trying to leave this life again. I’m just having a pee and thinking. But she was freaked. I wasn’t allowed out of her sight for a while. She was even skipping school to sit and watch me read in my trailer. Seeing her so scared for so long made me wish I’d never done it and made me WANT to get better to never get to that depressed self destruction again.
So, I fought the drug cravings, I fought the alcohol cravings and I took my meds like I was told to.
My second wave of WANT came when my sis got her drivers license. It was around Christmas and I was sitting in bed, most likely in my head and she wrote me a note saying that she was going to go downtown to walk around and look at all the Christmas windows.
When she got home I found out it she went alone. Just her, walking around, drinking hot coco. I was thinking, I could have done that. I could have gone too. I wish I was healthier, I WANTED to go see the Christmas Windows. That word hit my brain again… WANT. I WANTED to get better and go do things. I just felt like life was passing me by. I did not WANT to become Kafka’s Cockroach.
So I stopped telling myself that I wasn’t able to help myself. I sort of put a scale in my journal of how I was feeling. I used to skip therapy for any little discomfort. But I had WANT now, so if my panic scale was 1-4 I still forced myself to go. If it was 5+ I really had to stay home. My scale grew and so did my stay home number. My scale goes to 11 and my stay home number is around 7 or 8. (unless it’s to my personal therapist, then I go no matter what the number.)
I will always admit, I have a LOT of help to get through my day. But I didn’t get my own place or my job or where I am now… without that first spark of WANT.
What sparked YOU’RE sense of WANT?