“It’s ok to live a life others don’t understand.” -unknown
It’s been a whirlwind in my head like a selfish hurricane destroying whatever comes in it’s path. Connecting a title with an emotion has proven difficult. My vulnerability and sensitivity naturally higher. Intrusive thoughts coming and going as they please. A little more often than usual. Will I ever overcome Ed? How will I ever handle a full time job if I can barely handle a part time job and weekly therapy? Is my medication working for my body like it should? Will I ever be successful like the visions I’ve dreamt of? The urge to write about anything at all, very slim. If it’s not spelled out on paper it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s real, at least in my cognitively distorted mind. Feelings of a closet eater arise. Along with skipping meals and binge eating. Goals have become a distant light. Merely just a teeny unreachable twinkle. The past couple days I’ve cried and cried hard. The kind of cry where you use nearly an entire box of tissues and your eyes swell up like you haven’t slept in days. My spiritual world seems faint and filled with anger. Guilt and embarrassment tend to mingle in. “Extreme introvert” unfortunately molding into my middle name. Isolation closing in with thoughts of closing off the rest of the world. Unworthy and unloved. Two words floating like bubbles in my head, unable to make up their mind, to stay or go. Fighting an endless battle. Subconsciously attempting to push all the negative away and not allow myself to feel this way. I’m too hard on myself. Always under strict pressure. Fight or flight mode is all a little too present. But where would I go? The sunshine that typically “radiates” has been more of yucky storm clouds. Twisted sheets and unfluffed pillows sprawled across the bed from restless nights. The bed stays unmade and clutter fills the bedroom. Cracked skin around fingernails haunt me to relapse with self harm. Life has been flustered causing the special moments to be buried beneath the gunk. Demons and the monster blood thirsty for the spotlight. Unable to focus with a clear mind due to too many “open tabs.” Why is this all so hard? Other people my age are flourishing with “big girl jobs” and adorable apartments. I’m floundering like a fish out of water. As a habitual planner, the fear of the unknown settles in. Signs of a cold flare up with an overload of stress mixed in with the sudden weather changes. Each moment feeling like a roller coaster unknowing which way the car will drive to next. Sharp twists and turns or long ups and downs? Revealing itself as the days progress on. All of this mess similar to a mundane to do list at times.
Processing through it all, I have to gently remind myself that it’s ok. Recovery isn’t consistently peaches and cream. Sometimes there’s bumps in the road that hit harder than others. There’s sour moments that taste so foul it seems impossible to swallow. But the ugliest and worst storms can bring the most magical rainbows.
It’s ok to not be ok.