[dropcap]This[/dropcap] post is about my realisation that recovery is a part of my life, and isn’t its entirety. It runs parallel to everything else and needs to for me to be happy.
My first post of this week, It’s okay to not be okay, discussed my recent conclusions as I realised my progress had halted as I had stopped allowing myself the pleasures of life to speed up recovery. Mental health issues require long-term work and commitment even after you conclude your therapy and I know that. But I had lost my work/life balance. I know that going to therapy isn’t my job, however, it requires a huge amount of effort, leaves me drained and tired and isn’t fun. So though it isn’t a job it is a chore. A chore that I sometimes enjoy and more often than not learn from, yet that does not make me any less drained or tired as the sessions conclude. So it is important to not let therapy take over.
My weekend would draw to a close and in my boyfriends return to University I would begin my countdown until my weekly session. The countdown would keep ticking until Wednesday or Thursday night where my anxiety would rise, I would lose sleep and wake up to face what felt like the impossible. And then after making it to the session, or not as it seems recently. I would begin the countdown again taking a much-needed break as my boyfriend again returned home. As I have typed this, I have highlighted to myself how extremely unproductive, toxic and impractical this routine is.
So I pressed pause. And I cancelled my plans with all the people in place to help me and decided that I needed a break.
This passing week I have felt more like myself and become a greater functioning human than my recent months. It becomes easy to forget why you are fighting every day and what you are fighting for, sometimes you need to cancel what you should be doing and do what you would be doing.
If I wasn’t suffering from anxiety at current and had left sixth form, I would be working and visiting my boyfriend weekly and shopping daily and going to the gym and living… So I decided to do that.
I didn’t push myself to do the millions of things I wish I could do every day when I wake up, I just did the one. And it turns out it was all I needed. I do not know if it was being away from my houses four walls, or if it was doing what I wanted to do that re-lit a fire that had started to go out. But whatever it was. It has made me feel stronger than EVER.
I hold a lot of resilience and faith in my ability to overcome my anxiety, but we all have ‘bad days’ and we all need a blow on our fire or nudge to restart our flames. And I am so unbelievably proud of myself that I nudged myself, that I blew my own fire alight and that I reminded myself that I can do what I want to do and still recover.
So this post is an update on me and my recovery and a reminder to everybody suffering, remind yourself why your suffering and make your fire burn brighter. And for those who are watching others suffer and supporting, remember to nudge their fires now and again to keep them from losing faith in the wonders of the world we live in.
Recovery is worth it. That’s why you started it silly…
Today Tomorrow Forever