For most of my adult life, I have been the least emotionally stable person in my interpersonal relationships. I have been the one struggling through physical and mental illness and undeniably, not always doing so in the most graceful and peaceable way. I have said unimaginably dramatic and cruel things to those I cared for and care for the most, I have complicated simple friendships, and I have raised the emotional stakes in almost every situation, no matter how benign. I shudder to remember my uncontrolled, raw emotions, my desperating coping mechanisms, and the despair and hopelessness I felt inside and unfortunately, transferred to my friends and family. This is not to say that no one ever mistreated me, or overreacted to something I did, or betrayed my trust, but simply that as part of my recovery, I started assuming that I was overreacting, emoting inappropriately, or creating drama for my own reasons. I did not start assuming this out of self loathing but out of pragmatism. I was usually correct, and approaching friends and family with humility, noting my weakness in this area, felt therapeutic, like admitting to a friend of mine who loves to ski that I am afraid of ski lifts. Over the past few years, my emotional health, distress tolerance, and quality of life have dramatically improved, and so have my relationships. As the former three have changed, my assumption feels less valid. Now, I am often the more emotionally healthy, balanced, or even reasonable person in a heated discussion, or perhaps most importantly, I am well trained and increasingly well practiced in using the appropriate skills to understand and manage my emotions. I am far from perfect, but I am closer to the middle of the pack then I have been for years.
