I feel like I should write something profound, how blogging for a year has helped me, but the reality is today, like the last few days, is a bad day. A day where I feel wobbly inside, unsettled and anxious, leaving no real space for reflection.
I’ve been in therapy for over two years and I’m struggling to see what difference it has made, I guess without it I may have hurt myself badly, or resorted to medication, or slipped deeper into the depression that has always been with me, but at the moment I’m just confused, every week I have new memories, confirming that not only was it bad, but it was worse than that. And it lasted for so many years.
Now as I try to work it through, to manage my endless anxieties, most of which are simply unnecessary, many just plain ridiculous, I don’t know what is right anymore, things I thought for so long, things that I just know, those things are unclear now.
It’s deeply unsettling having to rethink the world, and I guess it will take a long time, it’s already taken so long to get to this point. I wonder if recovery is possible, and indeed what recovery might even look like.
So today, like the last few, is a bad day, the question is how many more bad days will there be?