After CBT, I thought I was better. I thought I had my shit together. Like pills I popped a few CBT sessions and now I am cured. The bitter truth is: everyday is recovery. There is no definitive end point. This is a horrible truth to hear, I know. It’s sad people don’t truly understand, they don’t get the blip in your heart; the shadow in the corners of your brain. It waits and festers.
Everyday, however the quality of life improves. During the initial attack, I didn’t know what to do. I spent the last couple of years evading it with numerous techniques. But now I am trying to own it. I am trying to own every emotion. Find the relevance in how I feel.
Every blessing and adversity all formed the growth. The growth that allowed me to cultivate a light for my darkness. I am not quite there but I am not too far gone either.