Often when I describe recovery to someone, I say it’s like walking a tight rope. One false move and your ass is back on the ground. And sometime you can get back up there, no harm, no foul. But there are times when you can’t. To switch metaphors, you’ve already let depression’s foot in the door and that bitch got in just a bit. That’s all it takes.
For weeks I’ve been letting her in, it just took until now to notice. My hygiene is slipping. I’m sleeping more, even past my alarm, which I never do. I’m so tired; my limbs feel 50 pounds each. I’m sad and worn out. I feel insecure and not excited about writing or work events. I’m even having trouble getting my thoughts out in this blog.
I have no energy. Gone is my pep. Maybe it’s time to try ketamine again, I don’t know. But I need to do something. I don’t like this version of Heather. Definitely not. I know I can achieve more than this, and I know I don’t need to compare this Heather to my most motivated and winningest one. It’s okay to have bad days. It’s when the days become months that I need to worry.
I won’t lie, I’m pretty worried now. It’s not completely dark now, but conditions are right for it to get darker – and fast. But it’s hard to say that this isn’t just a brief mood swing or if it’s going to last 6 to 8 months. My brain can’t tell the difference.
So here’s my plan: I go into Low Battery Mode which includes asking for help when I need it, taking more breaks than usual, try to eat healthy diet, see my therapist more often, do self-care as much as I can and celebrate the little things. That’s not much but it is when you’re floundering. I’ll really try hard on personal hygiene and getting enough sleep.
I’ll try.
That’s the least and most I can do.
Try.
