Self Destruction

Yesterday afternoon I was feeling like I had made a bad decision. I choose to do something rather self-destructive. It wasn’t morally or ethically wrong, but I foresaw potential emotional damage to myself. As the time came, I started feeling extremely high anxiety and wishing I had a stash of Xanax (My mother refuses to give me any - she is so cruel). I briefly entertained the thought of backing out on my anxiety-causing plans, but I am never one to shirk from some good emotional drama. Instead, I started planning the blog post I would write later about how we all make unwise choices and self-destruction is part of human nature and I could throw a recent example of self-inflicted pain from The Manorexic in there yadda yadda yadda.

So off I went, into a world of doubt & confusion & feelings. And when I came out on the other side, I had eaten some seriously delicious food, gotten hit on by a harmlessly nice guy, & won a free shot glass at a bar. But most importantly, I was totally fine. If anything, even more content with my life than when I began my evening. Let me say here, this is not always the case in this scenario, which has happened repeatedly in the past. But after last night I feel like the more I throw myself into this sea of self-destruction, the more I learn to handle it, cope with those issues, & come out the better for it. Being exposed to that potential for emotional heartache and making it through can show us how far we’ve progressed. Perhaps a little self-destruction can be a good thing.