For those used to writing about the weight of depression, happiness seems hard to define as something solid.
So I managed to lead one and a half routes.
Wait, one and a half?
After months of (ongoing!) ankle recovery at indoor walls, we’ve navigated our way around the snowy Spring days and managed to find ourselves some time in the sun; time to finally test out the mountain of gear we have stashed away.
The only difference between you and the successful version of yourself you dream about is the effort involved. Successful-dream-you has been rejected tons, but they just carried on anyway. And carrying on doesn’t have to mean being doing yoga and working full-time whilst working on side-projects and having a great social life.
Limits. Anybody else measure their limits completely and utterly wrong sometimes? Maybe this will help in deciding whether it’s worth one more hour, or whether it’s time for a break.
Why share? Why? Why type your life out and click a button, waiting for people to read? I don’t know. But I know that when I do write, the fog lifts a little.
When you’re in a good space it’s important to enjoy it. You don’t want to be thinking about “when am I gonna next feel like the worst” all of the time. But, but but but… it is important to utilise some of your productive clarity time to help out future-not-okay-you.
When you told me
“I’m on your team”
I believed that
You would not leave, and
I keep reminding myself
that you are the real deal, and
could stick around.
And by no means has ‘recovery’ been perfect. I managed to get myself into a nightmarish relationship straight afterwards, was further emotionally traumatised by Will.. uhh I mean Bill, and ended up quitting my whole life in Oxford. But, at no point since Recovery Day no.1 did I reach the lowest ever again. Why?
Because I knew I could fucking handle it.
And I think it’s because, in the real world, I:
Give up pretty easily when I fail at something, thinking “well, I guess this isn’t for me after all”.
Don’t even try in the first place because I am so absolutely terrified of failing that I would rather hold onto the dream of reaching something than actually try to reach it and fail.