I’m not just tired.

I have been complaining of my lack of motivation for awhile now.

Honestly, I have felt pretty flat-lined–like I am just surviving my days. Not feeling too low, but never feeling too high, either. And, when I do feel, I tend to swing to depressed.

Last night, I went to my friend’s house to visit. I did not go over until about 7pm, and I really had to talk myself into doing it.

I AM ALWAYS TIRED.

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When the walls go up

Trauma is a funny thing.

As I have worked my way through the many, many layers of my own story, I have learned many interesting facts about childhood trauma and discovered many of the reasons why I behave the way I do.

Yet, I still find myself feeling surprised when the sub-conscious takes over and I revert back to those past, safe coping mechanisms.

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Meds

Tonight, I am a mess.

A struggling, emotional, scared mess.

As a teacher, I recently had a few weeks off for the holidays. Days were busy–a combination of Christmas, traveling, and getting back on track with workouts. (Because, you know, I have somehow gained more weight than I want to admit). Somehow, in the chaos of it all, I began to forget to take my antidepressant.

Last Monday, I woke up and had to go back to work. As I went through my usual morning routine, I suddenly realized that it had been at least a week or a week and a half since I last swallowed that little pill.

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Growing, but not glowing

Everyday, I can see the progress I’ve made.

That, in and of itself, seems like a miracle at times. For so very long, I felt absolutely STUCK. Progress felt impossible, far-fetched, and highly unlikely.

And yet.

Day by day. Minute by grueling minute. I. Kept. Going.

And slowly, ever so slowly, life started to shift.

My anxiety became easier to control. I started to get some of my confidence back. I started to no longer need my therapist to hold my hand through every moment.  Continue reading