Because the road to recovery is long and rocky I guess. Today is a well day, a good day, in my terms, this morning at least, I might have even ventured to call it a great day. But that great day has included a trip to the psychologist, for couples counselling and making arrangements to get updates/extensions to my 'mental health plan', and has included taking my partner (gently) to task about invading my privacy be reading my texts and emails in secret, without my consent.
So - how good is that, really? Where does that rate on the scale of 'normal' or 'healthy'? I'm not sure and I guess that's part of the reason I keep revisiting here. Because there's things I want to talk about, to write about, that I wouldn't do elsewhere. This platform carries my thoughts about my hopes for mental (and physical/emotional) wellness, it bears witness to my relapses, big and small ... it's a place for me to put my sadness at my lack of progress, and my delight at my small and faltering steps forwards.
I do take steps forwards, I'm pretty sure. They are small, and it's hard to tell. I feel more like an ant than a man on the moon. I don't even get that excited, they are such minuscule little movements - but I do sense improvement, and I have a wavering, breath held hope that I might eventually move completely beyond this space of uncertainty and lack of confidence, this place of recurring sadness and helplessness, and back out into the light of a "normal and happy" life. It's been quite a while since I've felt confident that I might even be able to recognise one of those, if it ever does happen to me.
I do want it though. Perhaps part of the difficulty in attaining this (to me almost fabled) state is my difficulty in envisioning it. What does happy look like? What does stable feel like? How will I know when I get there? Or is getting there even the aim, really, after all? Is it simply working towards happiness, and trekking closer to stability, that is really the goal?
One day, perhaps, I will know. Right now I don't feel like I am any kind of trailblazer. I am just a quiet and sometimes frightened voice in the wilds of my own emotional jungle. Somewhere in here with me is my Tarzan. Together we are hacking through the vines and the undergrowth and on occasions (which seem to be becoming more frequent) together we scale the crazy trees and perch together in the sunlight. For him I am grateful. For this partner in my crazy, tiring, scarring and scary journey, I am so thankful. I truly do not believe I could do this on my own.
So - how good is that, really? Where does that rate on the scale of 'normal' or 'healthy'? I'm not sure and I guess that's part of the reason I keep revisiting here. Because there's things I want to talk about, to write about, that I wouldn't do elsewhere. This platform carries my thoughts about my hopes for mental (and physical/emotional) wellness, it bears witness to my relapses, big and small ... it's a place for me to put my sadness at my lack of progress, and my delight at my small and faltering steps forwards.
I do take steps forwards, I'm pretty sure. They are small, and it's hard to tell. I feel more like an ant than a man on the moon. I don't even get that excited, they are such minuscule little movements - but I do sense improvement, and I have a wavering, breath held hope that I might eventually move completely beyond this space of uncertainty and lack of confidence, this place of recurring sadness and helplessness, and back out into the light of a "normal and happy" life. It's been quite a while since I've felt confident that I might even be able to recognise one of those, if it ever does happen to me.
I do want it though. Perhaps part of the difficulty in attaining this (to me almost fabled) state is my difficulty in envisioning it. What does happy look like? What does stable feel like? How will I know when I get there? Or is getting there even the aim, really, after all? Is it simply working towards happiness, and trekking closer to stability, that is really the goal?
One day, perhaps, I will know. Right now I don't feel like I am any kind of trailblazer. I am just a quiet and sometimes frightened voice in the wilds of my own emotional jungle. Somewhere in here with me is my Tarzan. Together we are hacking through the vines and the undergrowth and on occasions (which seem to be becoming more frequent) together we scale the crazy trees and perch together in the sunlight. For him I am grateful. For this partner in my crazy, tiring, scarring and scary journey, I am so thankful. I truly do not believe I could do this on my own.
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