recovery is not a race.

Today has been a down day. It’s been over 24 hours since I took my last anti-depressant (I had to stop taking it because of side effects). I’ve caught myself staring at the walls a few times.

It’s hard to ignore how long I’ve been fighting this current depressive episode. It’s easy to fall into the mindset of, “shouldn’t you be better by now?” or “you STILL don’t have this figured out yet?” — thank you anxiety for that.

If I check the facts, (DBT skill) I got out of bed on my own, solo parented all morning, played games with the kids, completed a homework assignment with Wren, snuggled and watched Clifford with them, picked up the dining and living area, cleaned the bathroom, ate all of my meals. This is not nothing.

I know that not every day will feel like progress but I still need to trust that I’m moving forward, even if it feels like a snails pace.

Be well, be kind, wear a mask.

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