"In Recovery"?

After graduating my DBT group in August, I've spent the past four months trying to define that term- What does it mean to be "In Recovery"? I thought I would have some profound blog to wrap up my two-decade long journey through the mental health system and coming out the other end a new and improved person. Although (in some ways) I am certainly a new and improved person, my journey is anything but over. I wish there were more clear parameters. I mean, am I ever really "cured" of depression and anxiety? It's all something we will experience to some degree or another in our lives. So where is that line between a "normal" amount of depression and anxiety and a severe amount? I don't think there are actually answers to those questions. Perhaps the answers vary from one person to another. I hate how vague mental health is. You either have cancer or you don't; you have a broken limb or you don't. Maybe it's a spectrum, like autism, myself being a point on a line that's moving to the more functional end of that spectrum over time. Who knows.

I still have many struggles that I face everyday in a battle between myself and my annoying brain. I still cry quite a bit. I still feel like a lost balloon floating through the atmosphere with no direction or purpose. I still feel like a very intelligent, wise, and talented person trapped in a being that won't allow those traits to shine. I've still missed two days of work since my graduation, a combination of emotional pain and the coinciding physical manifestation of it. I still sleep hours longer than necessary. I'm still tired a lot. I still self medicate with an overabundance of sweets and sugary drinks. I still feel guilty that other people can do it all- the kids and the careers and the travel and the hobbies and the cooking and the cleaning- and my biggest accomplishments are not taking a nap, making dinner all by myself, or cleaning something without being asked. I kind of feel like I am not allowed to feel overwhelmed by the mundane, because I should be able to do the basics without struggle. I don't even have kids, so that should make life extra easy for me, right?

I have still met with my therapist occasionally since graduation, and when I met her last week, I cried for most of the session. I felt (and still feel) trapped in a world that doesn't make room for me. You are either held to the expectation that you can and will do it all, or you are on disability because you can't do anything. I feel like I fall somewhere in the middle- I can't do it all, but I have to so we can pay the bills and get my much needed health insurance. Maybe it's fantasy to think ONE small change would solve all (ok, a few) of my problems, but the flaw in our country that the quality and quantity of your healthcare is directly linked to your profession is a debilitating reality. It's a fact that I feel trapped by, a fact that I feel limits my options. I bet there are a lot of other people out there with long-term chronic medical issues that feel those same chains. It's a gamble- will today be the day that pesky illness roars it's nasty head? Will a few days in the hospital rack up a several thousand dollar bill that you will be shoveling out every month for years to come? It's those fears that keep me from moving forward, taking a chance, and making a change. Therapy, psychiatry, and medication are the trifecta essentially keeping me alive. I now have other "tools" to keep me afloat including all the skills I have learned through therapy and the support of my family and friends, but there is still no denying the necessity of proper medical care that goes into managing a mental illness. Even ONE day of missed medication can tip the balance in a potentially deadly way. Maybe it's a bit dramatic to say it that way, but would you really want to take that chance?

And so I feel at a crossroads- I'm at a point in my mental health journey where I think I am probably capable of more than I think I am. I want to be doing so much more. I want some change in my life. But instead of asking myself what my calling is, my passion, my heart's desire, I ask myself what I can do that will give me good health insurance. And that sucks. I hate it. I'm outgrowing this safe little life I've created, longing to burst forth and do something great. But I don't know what that is, how I will create it, or the avenue to get there.