So as I was in bed in the late afternoon, the weight of unknown anxieties sitting on me, a voice from deep inside said “Just try. You have to TRY.” I managed to get up. Shower. Do some laundry. Clean out the refrigerator and take out the recycling. I went to the grocery store and I bought the foods that I know help me feel better. Green vegetables. Kimchi. Eggplant. Squash. Getting back with the hippie program. No wheat, no processed foods. The spikes and plummets in blood sugar that happen when I am not mindful of my eating contribute to mood swings. I did not make it to the gym. I am still coughing and did not have the energy. But I ate a good dinner and I took my vitamins for the first time in weeks. And the damned ssri.

Last October the realization that I was stuck in the ditch and could not get out pushed me to go to a shrink. Not to a therapist, to the guy with the prescription pad. Because I have spent a fortune on talk therapy and it was worth it but I also know when I am not capable of using any of those tools. As I made more lifestyle changes (and watched my weight effing balloon again from the ssri), I came off the meds and did quite well. The last month has been hard. I don’t really know why. I do know some of why. I have been sick and my mental health has followed my physical health. I also believe that the nasty cold followed a brief period of severe emotional upset so it’s just the mental and physical feeding each other in a bad direction. I swallowed my pride and refilled the prescription.

Lesson learned this November: I have to try. I cannot sit back and hope that things get better. If I am not making an effort to continue healing myself, it will not happen. I let myself get run down with working too much. I stopped taking care of myself for a few weeks and that was all it took to start sliding into anxiety. I kept sober, though, and that has to mean something.

I haven’t had a drink in over four months. That is something. I know I am healthier. I can see that my hair is growing fast and healthy again. The last year before I stopped drinking my hair barely grew at all. I found myself trembling the last few days, overcome with anxiety. But I did not drink. I listened to the voice saying “You have to TRY.”  I got up and tried. Every day is not going to be momentous. The best I can do is keep momentum heading in the right direction. Some days like today my best effort will be to dig my heels in and refuse to slide any further back. I want so much more than this. I have to start somewhere though and this is where I am.