Tiny Progress

My next therapist appointment is a week from tomorrow, with someone new, AGAIN.  I’m getting really sick of rehashing everything that’s wrong in my life over and over again for a new stranger.  Really, really sick.

But.  Some things are going okay.  I’m working again, and that’s a Big Deal.  When I was at my sickest, I had to quit my job because between being crazy and the godawful meds I was on, I just couldn’t do it.  So being back at work is like regaining a piece of my life from before I got sick, before any of this awfulness happened.

I’m trying to remember that, to hold onto the idea that maybe I’ve made some progress, because it feels like I was getting better and then lost so much ground with the Move.  I’ve been sick for almost 11 months.  Last September was the last time I really felt okay.  Almost a year ago.  A year is a long time to be gone.

A lot of the time it feels like I’m never going to get better, never going to get back to where I was before.  I mean, I know that my life is different now that I have a kid, and it will never be like it was in many ways, but it’s hard to hope that I will be happy again.  Or even just consistently okay.

BUT.  I am okay some of the time.  I’m okay enough to go to work, and I’m enjoying being there.  So I guess, even if it’s tiny, it’s progress.


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