I hear destructive voices less and less, replaced by feelings of empowerment and the wherewithal to tackle what comes in my path. Sometimes I get sucker punched in the stomach and it takes a few days to work through it, but the positive, mindful days are outnumbering the numb, coasting ones now.

Recovery isn’t easy. It’s not something you can urgently wish for and feel in crisis about. It’s a process that must be respected for what it is:

A shedding of old skin, a painfully slow evolution, a tough love friend.

I can’t bend it to my will, because if I did that I would just fall back into old patterns permanently. The recovery process is its own animal, and neuropathways  don’t want to change, not without an epic fight.

Hamster wheel, two steps forward, three steps back, tug-of-war, multiple personalities, can’t win for losing, I can’t do anything right, I’m worthless and useless – these thoughts have been evicted from my brain and replaced with:

I am worth this difficult process, I am worth forgiving, I am acceptable and infinitely lovable as I am now, I don’t have to cater to others for them to like me, I feel a permanent change forming.

These are all phrases I say consistently to myself. I slip up and go back into depressive homeostasis sometimes, but it doesn’t last for long.

I’m learning daily what I will not endure any longer, and the empowerment that comes from showing people I mean business inspires me to continue. I won’t hide, I won’t try to blend in and I definitely won’t apologize for what I’ve become.