A few months ago I decided it was time to try medication. After months of fighting to get out of bed and pushing through each day only looking forward to sleep, I thought these very important words:
I can’t live like this forever.
Truth is it didn’t even feel like living. It felt like hell, so I swallowed my pride and asked for help. And you know what happened? I could breathe again. Hands down this is one of the best decisions I’ve ever made for myself.
However, now I’m not sure how to fill my time. Suddenly I have extra hours throughout the days, weeks, months. Time that used to be filled with managing my mental health. Reading, writing, journaling. Constant self reflection or working through inner conflict. Cooking, running, and moving my body. Sometimes it was filled with mini break downs, long naps, crying, or staring blankly at a wall wishing I could just feel better. Talking back and forth to myself, convincing myself that the voice saying “I should die” is a goddamn liar. Getting drunk, over eating, or staying up until 3AM for no good reason.
I never realized how much time I spent taking care of and/or just managing myself and my shit.
Now I’m in limbo. How do I fill this space? What to a pencil in? Do I need to continue doing the hard work to keep myself afloat? Will I ever feel depressed again? When?
The biggest question I keep coming back to is this: Who am I now?