Crap. This is supposed to be a journal of “happiness and inspiration”. But a journal is a journal; it is therapeutic to just let it out.
As you may have noticed, I stopped checking in. Summer has been a tough season, just as it was last year. Being out of school & having more free time, which I could use to take care of myself, seems to correlate with an increased intensity in OCD for me. It’s not as terrifying as it once was; I can recognize my thought patterns & I can still keep hold of reality. I’m not getting sucked into that black hole where OCD takes you until you are ready to stop living. That alone should make me rise each morning with uncommon enthusiasm…but I don’t.
I think the thing that has tuckered me out is the maintenance. It is exhausting, flying against the wind. I’m not getting sucked in, but it sure takes it out of you, flapping your wings fast enough to stay out of the eye of the storm. Several times this summer, when I’ve just wanted to give up, I began to see the appeal of medication. A friend of mine referred to her experience with SSRIs as “learning to swim with floaties”; before she could even begin to help herself, she needed those floaties so she could stay above water long enough to learn to swim. That’s what a lot of people tell me. And the last psychiatrist I saw, while she said I was free to try and do this on my own, felt strongly that my recovery would be strong and swift if we could get my neurotransmitters to help me along, rather than fight me.
I wasn’t ready. I’m still not ready for meds. And I thank God that I am not yet to the point where I don’t have a choice. But the past season has been the sort of season that makes you wonder what life would be like if you had that extra help.
What do I do? Have I really been trying hard enough? My diet, my sleep, my exercise, group therapy, etc.; I don’t think I’ve been trying hard enough. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? I’m just human. When can anyone be good enough at everything? Maybe I can’t get there unless I start doing something different? Or maybe I am just weak. I’ve been feeling weak lately. It is NOT in my nature to give up, to let go, to be so easily bothered by the small hurdles of everyday life. Suddenly, after anxiety, I’m someone I don’t recognize. I’m high maintenance. I’m delicate. I’m scared of my shadow. I really, really, hate that. I feel like so much of what made me me has been taken. Or more like I’ve just let it go.
All I know is that I’m not ready yet.