A couple of weeks ago I realized that I needed another ECT, but I didn’t admit it because I hate them so much (really, it’s the anesthesia). But after confessing it to my therapist and husband this week, I’ve noticed that I’m not trying to hard to hold it together. And man, I must’ve been trying hard because right now I’m a mess. I’m exhausted and have been riddled with a migraine this week. My old, not-so-healthy coping habits are making an appearance, and I just feel so blah. My limbs feel so heavy and tired. My heart hurts.
I keep thinking to myself that I put up a good fight — I lasted more than four months without a treatment, but maybe I shouldn’t look at it as fighting. I should view it as fueling up to go farther on my mental health journey, even if it does sound cheesy. The ECTs only benefit me and that trickles down to my family and friends. I’m a better person because of them, and there’s no need to “fight” or deny that I need one. But I do.
So, here I am. I’m depressed, exhausted, fatigued, forgetful and battling a migraine. I’ve been binge eating for the past couple of weeks and have heavily relied on my anti-anxiety meds. I’m irritable, and I’ve been snapping at everyone. I know it won’t be this way forever. I have an ECT scheduled for Monday, so I just have a few more days. It’ll get better, it always does.
I don’t need to lie about anything, because that only hurts me. I have a lot on my plate right now, but if I’m not honest with myself and others, it’ll just keep overwhelming myself. I’ll keep bingeing. I might stay in bed all day. I might even make poorer decisions than those.
But it’s so freeing being honest. I’m not without limitations, I’ve always admitted to that, but I still find myself trying to be everything to everybody and going at a pace that I can’t keep up with.
I’m in pain, and I know it’s temporary, but I have to cop to that pain and honor it. That might sound weird, but remember it’s OK not to be OK.
And I’m not OK today.