Sometimes doing nothing is doing something.
This weekend has been pretty lazy, but I’m not complaining. I’ve been feeling pretty drained over the last few days, and I’m not 100 per cent sure why.
I know that between my writing, looking after the house, school, my photography, and everything else I’ve had going on, I’ve been keeping pretty busy despite the lockdown. The funny thing is, it doesn’t feel that busy until I slow down to reflect on everything.
I spoke with Dr. M on Thursday, and even he is amazed at how well I am doing, all things considered. He actually pushed my next appointment with him to three months, though he made it clear that if I did start to struggle his office is just a phone call away.
On one hand I’m not sure how I feel about the time in between appointments. It kind of feels like I’m headed to deep water without a float, and part of me is worried Im going to drown. On the other hand, it is a positive sign that I am doing better than even I feel I am. The other thing is, I may not be speaking with him for three months, but I am not left without mental health support.
I speak with my councillor on a monthly basis, and I’m down to speaking with M month as well, offset from my councillor by two weeks. I’m also following with Dr. O every couple of weeks as well. Having Dr. M in the mix feels, well, redundant. Logically I understand that. Mentally, it’s scary.
When it comes down to it, I am in uncharted territory. Hell, I didn’t think I see past 40, and here I am. After everything that’s gone on in the last decade of my life, I didn’t think I would see the level of recovery I have reached, and yet again, here I am.
I’m venturing in unknown territory at the moment, and it is scary. Scary, yet exhilarating.
I’m learning how to manage my illnesses. Sometimes that management is resting, because grinding 24/7 is just unsustainable. Sometimes that management is not relying on supports when you know they are close at hand, just to prove that you can. Like a child who is learning how to swim for the first time, they will often swim within arm’s reach of the wall, thereby knowing that they can stop at any time, just by reaching out, but they carry on just the same, as I am doing.