So… it’s been a few months since I last told my story here about relapsing with anxiety and depression, about how I would self-harm and shake in bed, with the worst thoughts going through my mind and contemplating ending it all. I wanted to give an update, not only for myself but to say, IT DOES GET BETTER.
One of the most used phrases when going through my worst periods was “it does get better.” It’s almost a cliché, one that you constantly question. The strange thing is; it does get better. It’s odd. After so many years suffering and then seeking help (and seeking help is the main point), IT GOT BETTER.
I don’t want you to think for a second that this was an overnight thing. It wasn’t. It was hard work, working with my therapist and taking my medication but I got there.
How do I know this? Well, I still have moments of anxiety, I still have those days when I can’t get out of bed but this time it doesn’t last as long. I’ll gather my thoughts, my feelings and do something productive. It might take a couple of days to get myself up again but it happens. I can stick my music on and look forward to the future.
The main thing here is… I’m under no illusion that I’m magically cured. Every day I have to work, feeling better about myself, still taking my antidepressants (hopefully a couple more months and I’ll start coming off them). On the best days, I’m unstoppable; on my worst, I tell myself it’s temporary, even if that means I don’t believe it at the time.
Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I know it’s true and I can be happy.
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