Tell Mom today was good.

That’s what I said to my sister when she told me Mom was asking about how my day went.

“Tell Mom today was good.”

Because it was. I woke up this morning and ate breakfast and put makeup on and walked to the clinic where I work as a transcriptionist. I sat at my desk and listened to patient after patient talk about their struggles with addiction and recovery. I listened as people talked about anxiety and depression. I listened to them talk about medications and side effects and trying to stop and trying to start and trying to live with a mind constantly telling them they need something that ultimately wants to destroy them. I listened, silently, and I wrote notes. Continue reading “Tell Mom today was good.”

On Recovery

Confession: I hate recovery. It’s hard. And scary. And hard.

Before I can explain why, I need to tell you a bit about what I’m recovering from. “Mental illness” is an expansive term, and even when I break it into words like “depression”, “anxiety” and “BPD”, the picture is vague. So here are the broad strokes of my story.

I was diagnosed a couple years ago, November 2015, but I’ve struggled with my mental health since I was about fifteen years old. High school was hard. University was harder. Bad days bled into bad weeks which became bad months and in my third year I dropped out because my ability to function extended not far beyond shuffling my way out of bed to the bathroom a couple times a day, and maybe a trip to the kitchen at 2 am to compulsively stuff myself with whatever I could find. Continue reading “On Recovery”

This is not a New Year’s Resolution.

Because I don’t make New Year’s resolutions. I don’t make resolutions, period. Maybe I’m cynical but in my experience, if something requires the title, “resolution” to goad me into doing it, it’s not going to happen no matter what time of year I begin or what I choose to call it.

So this is not a resolution.

It’s a step.

Steps, I’ve found, work better. There’s nothing binding about a step. I can step forward, I can take two steps, or four, or twelve. I can step backwards or to the left. I can jump, skip, twirl. Steps are forgiving. If I take a step and decide I don’t like where I land, I can move away. Or I can stop taking steps for a while and just spend some time in the grass. The pressure’s off. Continue reading “This is not a New Year’s Resolution.”