I want this to be my best prose and my most meaningful post, but I’m on the train and that’s unlikely.
But I’m on the train towards my job. My job with people and tasks I’ve grown to love (even with the disgruntled customers lately).
I feel a little strange, but that’s probably because I forgot to take my meds last night. My meds that actually stabilize my mood into this eerie calm. Don’t worry, I’ll take my meds when I get to work.
I slept a fairly normal amount last night. I’ve practiced skills towards living in a normal way for two long years now. I work on those skills daily. Dialectical behavior therapy saves lives.
I worry a bit, often health, finances, and work. Deeply I worry that my new found peace will disappear. But it doesn’t consume me most days.
I have low days where I can’t function. But I’ve practiced crawling my way out again and again. It’s easier now. Almost routine.
I feel I can say pretty unequivocally, it did get better for me. But only with expensive treatment, patient doctors, and a lot of time. Does it get better for everybody? Probably not. Mental breakdowns are expensive. Doctors are overwhelmingly clueless. And a lot of people run out of time.
I’m not here to convince anyone that anything is guaranteed. I’m not in this to prove I’ve been as bad as anybody else. But I think it’s a story that needs told.
So yes, I believe it can get better. Just not overnight.