After several weeks of feeling as though, no matter what I’ve tried nothing has been able to halt the relentless sliding backwards I finally feel as though I’m getting somewhere.
It might only be tiny bits of progress; fits and starts and the occasional spurt of positivity but it’s all helping me move in one direction.
Two weeks ago I couldn’t have told you what moving forward actually meant, never mind how to achieve it. I was so lost in a storm of exhaustion and fear and negative emotion that I couldn’t see or think about anything else.
I feel as though I’m starting to emerge from the fog that has been clouding my thoughts since I started taking my new medication. I’ve not managed to make it back to work yet because I’m still feeling the side effects of the Metazipine quite acutely but they’re not as much of a problem as they were last week or the week before.
I’m still sleeping for around 12 hours a night if I don’t have to get up with Squidge, my reactions are still quite slow, I still drop things a lot, my hands shake and I don’t really feel safe to drive yet but I feel reasonably in control of my own mind.
I feel like I might, just might be starting to gain control of my own life.
This week, for the first time since Squidge was born I met up with a group of mums.
It might not sound like much but for me its a huge achievement.
Something that should be easy is, for me, full of obstacles and traps designed to catch me out and make me feel stupid and worthless. Instead of being a simple pleasure I often find socialising so hard that I end up looking for excuses to avoid the event; to continue being on my own even though alone is the last thing I really want to be.
I don’t want to be lonely but at least if I’m by myself then I usually know what to expect.
This week I decided to make a change.
It was scary; a step into the unknown that I wasn’t sure that I could make but in the end I did.
I took a deep breath, screwed up what courage I could find and I took that step forward.
Instead of spending the day alone in the house trying to find something to keep my attention fixed on something other than my spiralling thoughts I spent hours talking and laughing and eating a rather large pizza.
There was no ulterior motive for me being there, no one was trying to catch me out or knock me down. I wasn’t in trouble, I hadn’t been invited so that I could be told that my blog was too identifiable or that my absence from work was unacceptable.
I was there for me.
It wasn’t easy but I didn’t expect it to be. By the time we all left the restaurant, I felt dizzy, my hands were starting to shake, I was having trouble stringing a coherent sentence together and I couldn’t quite work out how to get out of the shopping centre and onto the road that led back to the train station.
I was completely wiped out.
Don’t get me wrong, I had a lovely time and it’s something I really hope to do again in the not too distant future but it was also exhausting. I needed the train journey home to just sit in silence, looking out of the window and collecting my rather scattered thoughts.
But moving forward was never going to be anything other than confusing and exhausting and downright exhilarating.
I’ve spent so long looking backwards; mourning the bright, sparky girl that used to be, wondering what I could have done to make my life turn out differently, trying to work out what went wrong and why that I’ve almost forgotten how to look forward.
It’s become so difficult to try that it’s been easier to just not.
A brighter, happier version of myself has just seemed so difficult to achieve, so far out of reach that it’s almost been a self-defence mechanism to keep plodding on as I am; less destructive to assume that I would fail rather than try and be proven correct.
Clearly my previous attempts at getting my life to head in the right direction had failed so why waste my energy continuing to try?
But the day I give up trying to move forward is the day I give up trying all together and that is by far the scarier thought.
I don’t really like the phrase ‘keep on keeping on.’ I’ve seen it applied to so many situations and experiences where it’s just not appropriate but for me, I think it fits.
Keep on keeping on.
In a positive direction