One year ago, I was in the thick of my disease. I was knee deep in the grimy pits of therapy, facing one of many medication changes, had yet to meet my full time psychiatrist, and sleeping. A lot.
I wasn't eating, wasn't showering, wasn't changing out of my pajamas. I ached in my arms and legs. I cried. I got headaches and stomachaches.
One year later and I'm sort of split on my recovery. On one hand, I'm doing great. Most of the above symptoms have gone away. I don't ache anymore, I don't sleep my days away, I'm holding down a job, I don't cry everyday, I shower, I eat, I get dressed.
A huge part of my recovery is thanks to my support network (shout out to Dave! Respect! And my mom! Woot!), thanks to modern medicine, and thanks to my stubbornness. After everything went down, even in the absolute worst, darkest hours, I had this little thread tethering me to this world. I don't know what it was tied to (Grace? Dave? God?), but for some reason, I clung to it, made the call to my therapist and to Dave, and took the very first, tiny step toward getting better.
So... on the other hand, I carry a bit of shame with me. I try to bury what happened to me last year. I keep telling myself that if only this happened, or if only I decided to do this instead of that, it wouldn't have happened... Even though there is sound medical science behind the existence of my condition... I still blame myself. If only I were stronger somehow, had more faith, were a better person... maybe this wouldn't have happened to our family. Because make no mistake, this didn't just happen to me. Everyone around me suffered. Gracie lost her mom for awhile. Dave lost his partner. My parents lost a daughter. My siblings lost a sister. My friends lost their friend.
I carry that with me everyday. It isn't a dark blanket over my life, but the guilt of it all is a slight haze over me. I can still experience life, even enjoy it, but only through that mist of shame.
Today is World Mental Health Day. I have been so busy with my head in the sand that my husband was the one who had to let me know. He's aware of these important dates more than I am, because he's accepted our reality and embraces it and meets it head on.
I could learn a thing or two from him.
Like our new normal will never go back to what it was and it's ok. That this isn't my fault. That we have a whole book of life together and one rotten chapter doesn't mean it's the end of the story.
Our story will continue. It will be happy and sad, angry and joyful, quiet and loud.
You know, just like life is meant to be.
**************************************************************
If you or someone you love is suffering from mental illness, please visit https://www.nami.org/ for information.
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline – Call 800-273-TALK (8255)If you or someone you know is in crisis—whether they are considering suicide or not—please call the toll-free Lifeline at 800-273-TALK (8255) to speak with a trained crisis counselor 24/7.
I wasn't eating, wasn't showering, wasn't changing out of my pajamas. I ached in my arms and legs. I cried. I got headaches and stomachaches.
One year later and I'm sort of split on my recovery. On one hand, I'm doing great. Most of the above symptoms have gone away. I don't ache anymore, I don't sleep my days away, I'm holding down a job, I don't cry everyday, I shower, I eat, I get dressed.
A huge part of my recovery is thanks to my support network (shout out to Dave! Respect! And my mom! Woot!), thanks to modern medicine, and thanks to my stubbornness. After everything went down, even in the absolute worst, darkest hours, I had this little thread tethering me to this world. I don't know what it was tied to (Grace? Dave? God?), but for some reason, I clung to it, made the call to my therapist and to Dave, and took the very first, tiny step toward getting better.
So... on the other hand, I carry a bit of shame with me. I try to bury what happened to me last year. I keep telling myself that if only this happened, or if only I decided to do this instead of that, it wouldn't have happened... Even though there is sound medical science behind the existence of my condition... I still blame myself. If only I were stronger somehow, had more faith, were a better person... maybe this wouldn't have happened to our family. Because make no mistake, this didn't just happen to me. Everyone around me suffered. Gracie lost her mom for awhile. Dave lost his partner. My parents lost a daughter. My siblings lost a sister. My friends lost their friend.
I carry that with me everyday. It isn't a dark blanket over my life, but the guilt of it all is a slight haze over me. I can still experience life, even enjoy it, but only through that mist of shame.
Today is World Mental Health Day. I have been so busy with my head in the sand that my husband was the one who had to let me know. He's aware of these important dates more than I am, because he's accepted our reality and embraces it and meets it head on.
I could learn a thing or two from him.
Like our new normal will never go back to what it was and it's ok. That this isn't my fault. That we have a whole book of life together and one rotten chapter doesn't mean it's the end of the story.
Our story will continue. It will be happy and sad, angry and joyful, quiet and loud.
You know, just like life is meant to be.
**************************************************************
If you or someone you love is suffering from mental illness, please visit https://www.nami.org/ for information.
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline – Call 800-273-TALK (8255)If you or someone you know is in crisis—whether they are considering suicide or not—please call the toll-free Lifeline at 800-273-TALK (8255) to speak with a trained crisis counselor 24/7.
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