I Like Myself?

     Since my last post in 2018, I've been on a journey of self discovery. I spent my time writing fiction, re-evaluating my life, figuring myself out, and learning about the person I've (surprisingly) become since I started therapy. I've been piecing myself back together since I started therapy, and as 2019 is coming to an end, it seemed like the perfect time to look back at the progress I've made over the year and a half since I took a break from this type of writing.
     I was in my session with my therapist a couple of weeks ago, and a weird thing happened. I'm still thinking about it. I was talking about who I am currently, and I said something along the lines of, "I just don't want to have to give up any of these new pieces of myself that I've found. I feel like I fought to become this person, and I actually...like who I am..."
     My therapist sat there quietly for a moment. Then she said something like, "Can we just take a moment to recognize how far you've come?"
     Of course, I wasn't sure what she was talking about. She went on to explain that the way I was thinking about this issue had changed. I was worried about changing who I was to fit into a box I thought I would need to fit into. I was no longer worried about what a terrible person I was or what a terrible person someone else might think I was. I was no longer worried about being a terrible person at all, because I finally, honestly, didn't FEEL like I was a terrible person. (You can think something for a long time before the feelings part of your brain catches up to the thoughts part. I LOGICALLY knew I wasn't a terrible person for a few years, but now I didn't FEEL like a terrible person.)
     Instead of constantly feeling like a terrible person or like a person that was somehow less than other people because of my mental health condition, I was only worried about if I would still like myself if I changed some things. I had, at some point during the last three years, stopped hating myself. I had also stopped needing someone to reassure me that I was an "okay" human.
     I sat in my therapist's office that day, and I realized that I honestly LIKE myself. I LIKE the person I've pieced back together. I jokingly say, "Why am I like this?" to my mom and my therapist, but, for the first time in my adult life, that doesn't mean that I don't like being the way that I am.
     I doubted that I would ever reach this point. I never thought I'd actually reach a point in my life when I could say, "I like myself," and truly mean it. Yet, here I am. Four years after I started therapy, and I just had the nerve to think it and then say it. It's a weird sensation to not wish I wasn't who I am.
     I still struggle with my OCD and panic attacks. I still have bad days, and sometimes even bad weeks. I just no longer feel ashamed or less than others because of it. I'm also glad to wake up every morning. I like myself, and I try not to let my OCD tell me that I shouldn't. I'm still a work in progress, and I might always be a work in progress. The point is that I'm healing.
     I'll end with this: Mental illness often tells us that we shouldn't like ourselves. Mental illness also often tells us that we won't ever reach the point of real healing. I know it's the hardest thing to do, but we don't have to listen to it. The first step toward healing is getting help. It'll take time, but healing can happen. You deserve help. You deserve to heal and to like yourself, even if your mental health condition tries to make you think you don't.