Hey, I’m Doing Okay

The last year has been full of a lot of ups and downs. There have been a lot of really good moments, and I’ve been proud of myself for seeking treatment for my mental health, but there have also been a lot of weird moments, and some really low lows. I started medication, went back and forth on dosage, lost all of my personality/ability to feel anything, struggled with severe and terrifying depression, and had a several week long existential crisis.

It’s been hard to function normally – more than ever, I think for a while my mental illness and struggles took over my life in an odd way. No longer was I able to just sit and wallow in bad feelings; getting treatment put a name and a… substance to what I’ve been dealing with for so many years. I couldn’t just ignore it and live in misery any longer. Now that it’s real, it’s been an adversary, something I have to get up and fight every day. At times it’s been all-encompassing.

But I think I’m finally on the other side of all of that. Nine months into my treatment journey, and at least a decade into my struggle with bipolar disorder, and I’ve finally found some semblance of peace. Life doesn’t feel so god damn hard anymore, I can finally catch my breath. I don’t feel flat anymore, I just feel… content.

This contentment has been one of the greatest gifts I could give myself. For the first time in my adult life, it just feels like I’m living life. It’s not particularly glamorous, in fact it’s almost mundane. But the fact that I can get myself up and out of bed every day, the fact that I can tackle my daily to-do lists without breaking down, the fact that I can just be without every minute being agonizing is incredible. Every day doesn’t feel like a gift, but it definitely doesn’t feel like an assault on my being, either.

I keep a paper planner. As much as I love technology and the bulk of my life revolves around digital tools, I love physically writing stuff down. Before I started getting treatment for my mental health my use of my paper planners was inconsistent at best. There’d be long stretches where I used it consistently – coordinating with my mental health being in an okay place – then long, long periods where I wouldn’t use it at all because I was to depressed to give a fuck. This last July I bought a new planner. The other day I realized that, with the exception of a single week that I labeled “Depression Week” in my planner, I’ve used it consistently since July. Every page is filled with little scribbles and tasks which represent another day I made it through. It’s a physical reminder that I’m healing and I’m actually doing okay at this whole ~life~ thing. It’s kind of beautiful.

I dunno how to end this. I don’t really know what the purpose of this post even is. I guess it’s just an update.

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