I'm going to take a slight departure for today’s post and jump around in time a little bit. Normally my posts are related to the early days of starting treatment, about a year ago. Today I want to draw attention to the totally non-linear nature of recovery by talking about right now. Recovery is not a matter of: yesterday I felt bad, today I feel a little better and tomorrow I will feel a little better and the next day I will feel a little better and the day after that I will be happy! I say that because a few days ago I felt fantastic and today.... well, today I could just lie down in the mud and let the ED take over because I’m sad and I’m tired and it just seems easier.
So, pardon me, if you will, for a brief whine.
I am sick of thinking about myself. I’m sick of poking around inside myself to see what I’m feeling. I’m sick of having so damn many feelings to think about! (Life was simpler when there was just rage and depression?) I’m sick of eating, of thinking about eating, and of feeling something about eating. I’m sick of lifting myself up and trying to be brave. I’m sick of auto-correcting the mean voice inside my head. I’m even sick of trying to be nice to myself. I haven’t even gone near a mirror today because I know what I will say to myself and I don’t even think I have the energy to say that I’m wrong.
So, um... okay. (Cue the Bruce Springsteen...)
Just so you know, those days will happen. On those days, I pick up my journal or open a new document and I rant it out. See, here I am, right now!
What shall I say to myself?
It’s okay, you know. I can just sit here, if I want to. I don’t have to move forward all the time. I can just breathe and wait for this time to pass. The work is hard; everyone deserves a day off, or a vacation, if that’s what it takes. It doesn’t make me.... wrong. A failure. A bad girl. It just makes me human.
And I know this because it has happened before. I sit with it. I wait it out. Eventually I need to get up and move forward again. Sitting still becomes frustrating and going backward again? Well, that’s just not an option.
Because the one thing I’m even more sick of than doing the work is NOT doing the work. Living every day out of control, feeling sick, wanting to die. That’s all so far away now that going back would take more time and effort and pain than... just sitting here.
I give myself permission to be not okay.