It’s a pretty long journey, the road to mental health recovery. Many of us struggle for years to even see the road, let alone be on the road. Not to mention the fact that recovering and getting yourself to a better place has no time period on it – with a graze on your knee you might expect it to clear up within weeks; or a broken arm might take six months or so – with our mental health, there’s just no knowing & that can be tough.
I’ve been steadily chugging along on the road for a good few months now. I’ve felt better in myself, I’m finally on medication that helps me, I’m surrounded by good & positive people, I’m eating well & exercising a lot; I have felt probably the most content I’ve felt in years. Don’t get me wrong I’ve definitely had days where I’ve felt pants, but nothing that I couldn’t handle; that was, until last weekend.
I literally felt like the biggest failure on the planet.
The biggest thing I’ve always hated/feared with anxiety is the lack of control. My body sort of contracts & shakes, I tense then release, to tense again. I cry, I yelp, I feel numb. My brain freezes but then processes 101 thoughts a minute. I get paranoid, disorientated, frightened. I physically feel sick, my tummy somersaults, my vision even goes funny. I’m not in control. & I felt like on Saturday, after months of being in control, and being ok, that some sort of invisible force had waged war on me & taken over my ability to be human. I was this powerless, pathetic mess, and I felt like I’d fu*ked it all.
Months of hard work gone to pot.
But the truth is I hadn’t failed. Not one little bit. This is why I wanted to write this post, because I’m pretty certain that I’m not the only person to hit that bump in the road – I felt alone in my ‘relapse’ on Saturday, because I couldn’t make people understand why it felt so traumatic. I don’t want anybody else to feel like that, so I thought, I’ll just babble myself silly on here & hope that on the off chance that someone is going through a tough patch, that they know they’re not alone.
I get it.
See, the thing with recovery is, it’s not linear and it’s not easy. For me, it feels like I’m rebuilding myself – which is a gift in a way, because I get to try & become someone I want to be, rather than be someone I’m unhappy with; but it’s no small feat. It’s gonna take me some time to get there, and being the impatient person I am, you can imagine that goes down a bundle! I’ve already seen such a huge change in me though, and I’m determined not to give up. If you’re at that bump, please don’t give up. See a bump is after all just a bump. You can and you will get over it, because that’s how bumps are designed – they’re also built to slow us down, but that doesn’t mean we come to a full stop. The important thing is to find the courage to get back in your metaphorical car (I imagine mine to be a retro VW camper van with flowers on it, of course) & get back on the road.
We’ve got this.
Big kisses always,