My Journey So Far

Navigating through the labyrinth

September 25th is a day that really sticks out for me this year. It was the first day of my treatment at the Renfrew residential facility in 2015. I spent a month there and walked away with... What did I walk away with? I feel as though I am supposed to have a plethora of feel good lessons I've learned along the way. After all, it's been a year. Well, I don't. I mean, I know how to exercise self care now and definitely make sure I'm getting it. My mood is a LOT more stable and the depression has gone waaaaaaay down. I've learned that it's okay for good things to happen to me and when they do, I enjoy the moment/s. I understand that I have boundaries and that I have a right (and responsibility) to use them. I know that I am deeply loved by my family and it's not something I doubt. But...

I'm gathering my thoughts here because they seem to be scattered all around in my mind. They're hiding around up there and my search for them is proving to be difficult. With as much as I've gained (no pun intended), I still feel... the same inside. On my second day in Res, a question was posed to the group in which I participated. We were asked what was at our core. My response was ruin. Ruin and the after affect of a demolition were at my core. What if that's still true today, a year later? Well, it is. I still feel it. So what does that mean? Did treatment not work? Do I not want it enough? No, it doesn't mean those things.

Recovery is hard. Treatment is hard. And at the moment, I'm angry at it, fed up (hey look, another pun) with it. I'm censoring myself because I want to be sensitive to some of my readers, but I have a few choice words for recovery. Ahh! Recovery is not a linear process, is a phrase that is very well known throughout the ed community. But I'm still worried. A close friend and I were sharing the other day some concerns we have in regard to recovery. Here are mine: I'm worried that, should I relapse or not appear to be recovering at the rate some may want, I will be given up on. I'll be forgotten about and written off. So I try to be the "perfect patient" and "do recovery right" all the while hating it and hating myself. But this a part of the process, right? Fighting against recovery at some point is part of the non-linear-recovery-road territory. Right? But I just need to buckle down and deal with it. As memories return and feelings make their way back into my soul, I need to face them as they come, right?

Did you take a good look at that picture up there? It's not just a brain but it's a maze. Take a moment and try to navigate through it-- for real. How many times did you have to stop and either go back before progressing or stopping and taking a better look at the maze before continuing? I am a really great maze navigator and love the challenge they bring. But even when I was doing it, I had to pause and re trace my steps. And I did this while being able to see the entire maze. Can you imagine doing this in the dark as a flash light illuminates only what is directly in front, behind, and to the sides of you? Chaos! Well, that's what recovering feels like for me right now. I'm walking and trying to follow the path but I hit a barrier which manifests itself in emotions that I still find unbearable. Or the monsters right around the next corner which are too scary to face. Still. So I just stay there, right there in front of that stone wall of the maze. My maze. My mind.

Of course, I can't progress if I remain there standing... But, what if I don't want to progress? What if I don't want to leave the maze? What if I just want everyone to leave me alone?

But then, what if I get that wish?

What if everyone walks away and forgets about me, deciding that I'm no longer worth encouraging if I don't want to change? What if I'm still in the same place or worse further down the road? I'll be given up on. If I stop moving  and trying to get out of this maze, no one will cheer me on at the exit. They'll consider me a waste of time, or at least they'll consider their efforts a waste of time. Everyone will walk away because I'm not getting better and because I'm not trying. Honestly, I don't think I could blame anyone for feeling this way and acting on these feelings. I know I find it challenging trying to work with someone who seems to not want the help or who seems to not appreciate the effort. Especially when it's a loved one.

So how much struggling is too much struggling? How much is someone willing to put up with before they give up rooting for someone's progress out of what may be a self tailored prison?
Ah, I've made it to that part of my post where my next words should be the encouraging ones with which I usually try and end. I'd say something like, God will not give up on me. He will continue to cheer me on even after I fall. But I'm genuinely wondering...

Will Jesus continue to tell me with tenderness that I was made for more than my struggles, more than my ed? If I continue to push away His love and go against recovery, will He still be the empathetic High Priest Which He is?
Or will He eventually yell at me with frustration that I'm not living up to His standard?
When will He get tired of me?
Tired of telling me? Tired of helping me?
Will He sigh in dismay at my failures?
Of course not...
Right?

Please check out this article because it is so very poignant.