I find that I spend periods of time stuck in my head. I can literally sit for hours, thinking and worrying. I know it does no good but I can’t always help it. I have a problem I feel like I need to solve. The real problem is that there is no tidy solution. All the thinking in the world won’t bring one. The problem is me. I simply have to change. Until recently I viewed my recovery as my life returning to the way it was. I would go back to my household duties. I would return to work as a paramedic. No more PTSD nonsense getting in the way. Anything short of that was failure. Anything different from that was failure. That was my standard for ‘better’. Anytime something went well that was fine, but in the end I still wasn’t working so thus I was failing. I had trouble (I still do) recognizing the little accomplishments. The idea that I should be priding myself on the tasks of daily life felt degrading. I had been a highly functioning autonomous adult after all. But I didn’t always do those tasks anymore despite having that attitude, and when I did I would put myself down for not having done them sooner. I’m learning to see those tasks as the stepping stones that they are. Depression is a strange state of mind. It makes routine pointless. It makes action unfathomable. It questions value and purpose. I never realized how intertwined with work those were for me. Depression has shown me. A large part of my self worth came from doing my job. Now it has to come from simply getting up and participating in the day. I’m learning to be ok with that. No one climbs the mountain in one step. I spent two years on pause looking for that one easy step. I’m giving up on that and starting my slow ascent. This blog is part of that. It’s my newest form of therapy. I’m no expert on anything. I’m just attempting to articulate my experiences as a way of sorting them out for myself. It’s a fairly recent development for me that I’m truly coming to terms with the work involved in getting better. The struggle of re-establishing a routine begins. Overcoming the perpetual exhaustion is, well, exhausting. Going out into the community is challenging. Doing things I was never fond of such as exercising is frustrating. I get overwhelmed easily. I’m always hyper-conscious of all the things I’m trying to ignore. The anxiety is always nagging me. But I know logically I have to unstick myself or nothing will ever change. My psychologist tells me in one way or another in almost every session that getting better is going to be painful. Getting sick was painful enough, and now I have to accept that that’s not the end of it? Yeah. I do.