I’m struggling.  Some of the wreckage of my past came up, like it tends to, and sent me into an emotional spiral.  I’ve been battling between feeling wired/anxious for the future and feeling depressed and hopeless.  

Recovery is fucking hard.  I’m just going to say it.  Often times, we talk like it’s only this beautiful process where our life gets better.  It is but…it’s also a lot more than that.  It’s uncomfortable, repetitive, tedious, long, and difficult.  You take two steps forward only to be pushed back by circumstances or symptoms.  You feel like you’ve finally got to a new level only to be floored by your inability to handle things.  

Sometimes it feels like too much.  Sometimes it feels like it’s not even worth it to try anymore.  Sometimes it feels like you’re worthless.  Sometimes it feels like no one else could ever understand.  

I try to stay mindful.  I try to remember that we all go through ups and downs and that life is a process of change.  I remind myself that we all have things we’re embarrassed of.  I sit with my feelings and breathe or cry through them.  I use my healthy coping skills.  I talk to myself like I'd talk to one of my patients.  I talk to others that I trust.  I give myself a break.  I cancel important meetings or events.  I try to care for myself.  And I wait for the feelings to die down, which they inevitably do, so I can start allover again.

Sometimes, though, I want to say forget it.  Like many trauma survivors, I live with the chronic fear of “the other shoe dropping.”  This means that as soon as I feel comfortable or safe, something pops up to remind me that I’m not.  To remind me that life is hard.  To remind me, that no matter how long or well I recover, the world won’t let me forget who I used to be.

There’s no way to recover without experiencing feelings of discouragement or hopelessness from time-to-time.  It doesn’t mean things are hopeless, though.  Even in my darkest moments, that’s what keeps me going.  I seemed like a hopeless addict, but I wasn’t.  My life might seem hopeless in my mind right now, but it isn’t.   I’ve come a long way in my 15 years and can’t believe that it ends with me giving up.  I just can’t.  

Recovery is a process.  There are great parts and there are shitty parts.  There are exciting parts and there are boring parts.  Just like life, recovery is a journey and if you want to experience it, you have to welcome all of it.  Even the parts you hate.  

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