I've lived on adrenaline my whole life without knowing it until my mind broke. I had to learn how to slow down, rest and be calm. I've become so good at it though, life just passes me by while I waste away in my lonely home.
What happened to the woman everyone knew would always step up to the plate when the proverbial stuff hit the fan?
I'll tell you where she's gone; she's sitting on the bench! She's/I've forgotten how to fight. To be back in the game striving to win and make a difference hasn't been more important than now. I'm not 'there' for me!
They say our MH needs calm, mindfulness and recovery. But what happens when recovery becomes habitual? Where's my passion gone? My will; my 'game'?
I've fought the good fight to survive which meant healing my brain and learning who I am, who I've been and different ways to cope. It's worked like a dream. The kickback though has been addiction to isolation and laziness and, not a thought for who I want to be.
I stood on my deck today with a cuppa questioning my decision to be this way. Sure, I'm safe and away from triggering influences, but at what cost?
Something awful happened to my child and I didn't fight for him. I'll never come back from that. It seems I'm doing the same thing to myself. This is my conclusion.
My once precious home has become my prison; items hoarded in rooms, untidy and even dirty. I'm ashamed. I started walking the deck; back and forth contemplating what to do. "Just move." came to mind.
Getting back into the thick of it means risking my MH. Or does it? How far have I come? Enough to care about/for myself?
What do you think?