The last couple of days have been hectic.
Meetings for a good chunk of yesterday and today, taking photos for Lynn last night as she performed with the Christmas Choir at the local seniors lodge, and some time on the road yesterday to take a friend her cell-phone back which she left at the store Monday.
It makes for a tired me.
It’s not the soul-crushing fatigue I was feeling just a few days ago, though. It’s a fatigue that lets me know I have been pushing hard and been productive, even if I am still behind in some writing.
This fatigue is a bench mark for me, and my battle with my mental health. The fact that I was sliding and managed to pull myself from the brink of the abyss tells me a lot about how far I have come.
My journey isn’t over yet.
I’m still a relatively young 39, but I am staring down the barrel of 40 in two months.
I have lot’s of road left in front of me.
I can be proud of my successes, but that doesn’t me I can rest on them. I have to remain vigilant.
I need to stay on the meds. I need to be aware of my triggers (to this day the sound of sirens cause an anxiety attack). I need to have an escape hatch for if I become overwhelmed and my coping strategies just aren’t cutting it. I need to be wary of how much I pile on. Keeping my medical and psych appointments are a must, as is maintaining a good sleep schedule.
The bottom line is this, it’s taken years of concentrated effort to get to the point I am at. It’s going to take effort to maintain the progress I have made. I know I’ll get tired at times. I know slips are likely.
It’s been worth the effort I have put in to get to this point. My life isn’t perfect. I wouldn’t wish upon anyone the crap that goes on inside my head. It is what I have to deal with, and the beast of PTSD and Borderline can be managed if you’re willing to do the work. I’m finally realising that no one can do the work for me. I’m also realising that I am worth the effort, despite the lies that my mind tell me.