I'm Meredith Grey and I need to learn to save myself.

Do you want to know a secret?

I’ve always wanted to be saved.

I’ve tried it a thousand different ways.

Friendship, religion, sex, alcohol, dating, writing, avoiding, running. People pleasing, people hating, gossip, gratitude, sobriety. CrossFit, Paleo, binge eating, music, Netflix, starvation. Fitting in, standing out, being the best, being the worst, needing all the attention, needing none of it.

It stems from abandonment issues and adoption issues and having family with addiction issues. It stems from cycles of settling and being told I’m not good enough and probably from my ability to avoid anything and everyone with total outward ease.

I haven’t had a therapist tell me this…but two drug addict biological parents, plus two not good at communication adoptive parents, plus lots of siblings (some with special needs/addictions and some who have been in and out of my life), plus a dead Mother at 9 pretty much adds up to YOU’RE GOING TO BE A BIT FUCKED UP, DARLING.

It explains my codependent behavior. Love me, but let me push you away. I’ll chase you and deplete every single ounce of myself. Just please let me be good enough for you. Treat me poorly so I can try to be better for you. It’s okay. My self worth doesn’t matter. I’ll never really accept your love anyways, but let’s try!

Just call me Meredith Grey. I’m dark and twisty inside. I just want to be Izzie Stevens. But I’m not. I’m Meredith. Damn it.

Save me.

Save me so I don’t have to do the big thing. Save me so I don’t have to move to Nashville and risk everything and possibly fail. Save me so I don’t have to do the hard work of fixing myself. Save me so I can take the easy way out.

Just save me.

But you guys. I’m not dumb. I’m not. I know I have to save myself. I know deep down that all of those things won’t make me happy if I don’t do the work first. I KNOW.

But the work is so hard. And people look at me crazy. Because I feel so many feelings. And I think SO much. And it all just makes me so…ugh.

It’s exhausting. I’m exhausted. Being the girl who’s a bit fucked up is exhausting. Always thinking about my shortcomings even though I know I have a lot of great qualities is exhausting.

And sometimes I just want easy. Sometimes a warm body in a cold bed is better than sleeping alone. Sometimes running five miles is better than admitting I’m sad. And sometimes drinking too much wine is more fun than thinking about how often I’ve failed in life. (And I just really like wine.) Sometimes not writing is easier than holding myself accountable to all of you. It’s easier than being honest with all of you. Sometimes I just want to be saved.

But I’m at a point where waiting to be saved is hurting more than saving myself. I’m more exhausted by the nothingness then by all the hard work I have to do.

Recovery is always going to involve backsliding. Especially when you’re going into it codependent, depressive, and anxiety ridden. But you have to keep moving forward, anyways.  Even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts. Even when you really don’t want to. Especially when you really don’t want to.

I can accept that I’m Meredith Grey. I can be dark and twisty. But I need to be the Meredith Grey who tries to swim. I can’t be the Meredith Grey who drowns. (Season 3, Episode 16. Go watch.)


Cheers! CasC
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