I’ve heard that the first few years after any kind of treatment or rehabilitation is like learning to crawl, walk and talk again. Expecting a drastic change after losing the support of professionals, psychiatrists, and those who are struggling right along with you, you’re left to integrate back into the world without those buffers on a constant basis.
Slip-ups become common, even relapses and it’s difficult to keep perspective about them because it just feels like outright failure.
Failure and hopelessness then precipitate depression and anxiety. It’s an endless cycle unless stopped in its tracks.
When I’m feeling really low, my sweet husband asks me to name five positive things I accomplished in that day. Sometimes it’s difficult, but he pushes me along and I come up with a list. If my accomplishments are too neutral, he asks me to be more specific and really focus on all the good I’m doing each day with my family and job.
Now the missing link is continuously doing things for me that are kind and good. I deserve to be gentle with myself, especially after taking on so many extra responsibilities. Anybody would have extra stress and anxiety in a situation where there are so many feelings to be aware of and needs to be met at any given time.
To get back into my self-care practices, I made a little meditation corner in my room. It has a rug and a pillow I can sit on, with a nightstand next to me with candles on it. It looks pretty, but I haven’t used it to full capacity and I need to.
I’m also using my FitBit attempting to reach 10,000 steps a day and walk up stairs as often as I can. I’m moving a lot more than I used to and integrating it into my already crazy schedule.
I’m feeling more confident with my appearance and shape and have convinced myself that the weight is going to be the last thing to go after all of this internal work is done.
I’m okay with that, I’m not quite ready to knock everyone’s socks off yet anyway.