Success

As we approach the end of the year, we reflect on what kind of a year it was, what it contained, maybe one word we could use to summarize it. While we generally might default to "good" or "bad," I found myself pausing from choosing such a stamp of finality. Part of the reason is this blog and something I wrote a year ago. 

When I approach the end of a year, I usually remember all the things I set out to do at the beginning. And while there's usually some eye-rolling at some of the unrealistic expectations I had of myself, as I reread what I had written in that post, I was struck by something; I had set out to change this past year. I was unraveling, stretched and under so much tension, much unintentionally self-inflicted. Mentally, it was a dark year. And I see from the post, it was a dark previous year leading up to it. There were moments where I wanted to give up and there were moments where I did. I had more than one point where I broke down to a point of no longer being able to function. And that right there confirms to me that I succeeded. I succeeded this year. Because I set out to change my pattern, which was headed due south. And here I am, on the other side, alive, stable, calm. While my knee-jerk instinct is to say it's been a "bad" year, I realize I must acknowledge that victory of surviving AND completing what I set out to do by not remaining the same but doing something DIFFERENT. 

I tried for over a year to make myself stable within my own power and self-control. I went to counseling with two different counselors, tried essential oils regimens for anxiety and depression, tried to be consistent in my nutrition, went through several physical therapies, tried to protect time for myself. But none of it was enough. Sometimes, no matter how MUCH you do or how HARD you try, the issue is DEEPER. And it wasn't until my counselor said it was time to get back on anti-depressants for the time being that I felt like I could allow myself. I had been so against it, so against not feeling myself again, like I had during deployments. But it was time. And it was okay.

Looking back, reading some of my thoughts and frustrations in that post a year ago, suddenly it's so obvious; I was dealing with anxiety, post partum depression, and PTSD. But I was so used to it, I thought that was just me. Like that's who I was now.

I started the anti-depressants and within a few weeks, I felt like me again; a me I hadn't felt in a few years.

My counselor reminded me that when we break a bone, we need a cast to set the bone for a period of time. And anti-depressants are the same: a temporary support while healing is in process. 

I look forward to focusing on further change this coming year and healing through further therapy, creativity, and GOD.

Today, going along with my gardening therapy post, I buried 95 bulbs. NINETY-FIVE! It was tiring but invigorating work and, when I was finished, I couldn't help but be sooooo excited for spring, to see the fruits of my labors. It feels a little gamble-y, burying something you aren't positive of the result. What if nothing at all comes up? I couldn't help wondering, what if I did it all wrong? After all, we already know I'm no gardener. But that is the risk and with it, there is the hope of something to look forward to. And if nothing else, the work kept your hands busy, your mind relaxed, your body active.