It is tempting as someone who suffers with mental illness to isolate, delete, block out, hide, start over.
This desire to “start over” is usually as a result of feeling like a failure:
I failed on my diet, so I’m going to start over… tomorrow.
I failed in my marriage, so I’m going to start over… with someone new.
In my case, my inner dialogue regarding this blog was:
I seem flaky, did not keep promises to myself, and learned I was not on “The Edge of a Full Recovery”, so I’m going to start over… and delete my blog.
I was really close to doing it. I’ve done it before. The Melancholy Spitfire was my most recent attempt before Wounds To Feel, and I deleted it because I allowed myself to believe that all my work in writing was pointless. That I would always suffer from debilitating cycles of depression where all progress would seem to stop, so why write about it? Why hope? Why write about visions that cannot come to fruition? Or, at the very minimum, be reminded of them by continuing a blog where my failures were staring right back at me.
Journals, Blogs, Poetry – They are all mirrors that I choose to look in or hide away from. It is difficult work being acutely aware of how my fluctuations affect me.
I’m joining this world again, not because I want people to comment or offer comfort and support, and not because I want notoriety and publicity to eventually become a self-help guru. I’m opening myself to introspection again, and my only goal with it is to help others while acknowledging this difficult recovery process on the good, bad, and ugly days.
Right now, I feel pretty crappy about some of the cycles I’ve put myself through lately, but there has been great progress as well. And, for tonight, I take comfort in the fact that today will be in the past, and that each moment is an opportunity to reset, but not start over.
I’ve come too far and worked too hard to diminish my experiences with such a simple phrase.