The breaks

Sometimes life is about giving yourself challenges to see what works and what sets your month on fire, I know that feeling quite intimately especially of late. Since going off my antidepressants I've been fairly stable, until I got hit by some unexpected stressors that left me in what I would tentatively describe as a 'neurotic hellhole'.

It was only a few days of being stressed, but it really gave me an answer to the questions that've^[1] been on my mind since my "Venom" post:

"When am I going to experience something that tests the progress I've made?"

"How far have I really come?"

Well I now have at least a partial answer to both of these questions, as my mental health did a bit of an oopsie and flung itself down the stairs we just built. I only just thought of this metaphor right now, but you could see therapy and mental progress as building the infrastructure to a new floor in your head, adding more space and facilities to help you get through life a little easier. You can tidy up the lower floors and put your baggage in a more fitting location now that you have some extra room, which sounds great because I'm tripping over bits of trauma and insanity that are just strewn across the floors and stacked to the ceiling right now.

Returning from the metaphor, what I discovered was that I have made real strides recently. I was pretty aware of my changes in mood, and how it was affecting the way I thought. I was actually able to bring myself back to feeling alright a few times which is a massive change from before, when a bad mood seemed to last as long as it saw fit, and then a few extra hours on top to make sure of my broken spirit. Not being a permanent prisoner to that is life-changing. It's a 'changing the reality I experience' kind of progress.

I kind of hate the word 'Progress' actually, it feels so sterile and corporate. As if my life is just a series of steps and goals to tick off on a fucking to-do list. When I say I'm making progress I mean in a human way, in an abstract, uneven way and not like I'm just some meat-packaged machine learning robot figuring out the optimal way of not dying. I feel better than I used to. I feel like I am a more beautiful being, in terms of my soul and my mind and even my body honestly. It's been so long since I've felt like I inhabit more than just a hollow puppet, but I'm building bridges to the outside world and with that comes a stronger connection to my own physical presence.

I'm proud of myself for trying to change, and for keeping up my drive to become a better person. I want to live a life that my past self would be amazed at if he could see into the future through some cosmic miracle. I might have already surpassed the point where he would be speechlessly, joyfully confused. It's a therapeutic thought. If I could go back 15 years to meet my 15 year old self, I would firstly explain why the fuck I'm a woman before telling him it's gonna be "not bad actually. pretty decent to be honest". I think seeing him laugh at that would heal me like a Pokémon 'Full Restore'.

I went back on my antidepressant yesterday. It feels good that I'm not making myself suffer any longer just because I want to "be fine without it!!" or one of many other misguided excuses to sit in the fire a little longer. I'm just not ready yet, and I think that's alright. Maybe it's the 'Progress' talking, but it does feel like I learned a lot about myself from the experience. Sometimes you carve a path that you're not quite ready to walk down. Them's the breaks I suppose.

1. I know that've can be a frowned upon contraction, but it sounds better here so I'm using it! ↩︎