I am not sure where I stand today.
This lagging sense of dullness has not passed. It has been there in one form or another for weeks. Let me say right here that it is not that way 100% of the time. I have had some special moments over the holidays that I will treasure.
But do not ask me about waking up or getting out of bed.
I know I have written this topic to death recently. The fact that I cannot wrap my head around why I am feeling this way alarms me. One of my Peer advocates is sure it is just my body calling me to slow down and get some rest. There is some truth to that because many of my shifts at work put me home at 1 AM or later. To expect to unwind, get some sleep, and then be up at 7 AM is not realistic.
Yet, even on days where I have gotten to bed by 10 PM, I cannot get started until there is no time left for me and my self-care.
I am sacrificing my “self-care” time to lie in bed and worry about not getting my self-care time. What a crock! How can I justify that? If I go back and review my list of triggers in my Wellness Recovery Action Plan, I am sure that I wrote about this.
Can being afraid of a relapse spiral me into a relapse?
To the outside eye, I do look better than I did in early December. This could be me getting back into my concealed depression mode. Or it could be that I am different. Seeing all the tools I have learned and the ways I have incorporated them into my daily life, there is a lot of merit to my being better than I was in April of last year.
There has been one time that I caught myself going into concealment mode with my Psychiatrist.
And it took me almost 5 days to realize what I had done and face it. Then, after speaking by phone with my psychiatrist, we worked through that. I was proud of myself for thinking it through and having the strength to say something.
Today, I do not know what to say or who to say it to.
I am floundering in my own crapulence. (Thank you Simpsons) The determination to live a more balanced life is still underlying my actions, but the surface feelings are nowhere near positive. They are bland, tasteless, and uninspiring.
This is not what I wanted in my recovery.
But it can be a part of my growth. Boy, that really sucks. This whole, I can’t get out of bed, I am not getting better, I am just spinning my wheels is beginning to get old. I am sliding back into the past, into a “pity party” with no one invited except myself.
What a sad state of affairs for someone who had seen six decades of life.
Wednesday, I have an appointment with my therapist. You can bet that this will take up most of our session. And then that night, I can go to another SMART meeting. The two events together give me hope that I will come up with a better, healthier way to think about what is happening.
I must always remember, I cannot control the events, but I certainly can control my attitude towards the events.
This is the realization I need to carry throughout the day. A reminder that there is something I can do. I am not helpless, or at the mercy of providence. I have a say in how I think about things and no one can take that away from me.