Today was objectively a good day. I spoke to my GP, and he’s happy with how things are progressing. I joined the gym. I went for a walk. I got out of the house. I moved my body instead of hiding from the world for another day.
By any reasonable measure, that should feel like progress.
And yet, while I was walking home, I found myself thinking:
“I hate this.”
“This won’t last.”
“The depression will take it away again anyway.”
That really caught me off guard.
Not because I don’t understand depression, at this point I probably understand it too well, but because I realised something important: when you’ve been low for a long time, feeling better can start to feel dangerous too.
Part of me doesn’t trust good days anymore.
Good days create hope. Hope creates emotional risk. Because if things improve, then there’s something to lose again. And somewhere deep in my head there’s still a frightened little survival mechanism whispering:
“Don’t trust this. Don’t relax. Don’t believe it’s getting better. You’ll only get hurt when it disappears.”
It’s a horrible way to experience recovery.
You spend weeks or months wanting desperately to feel ok again, then the moment you start to feel even slightly human your brain starts waiting for the collapse that might follow.
I think that’s one of the most exhausting things about depression and trauma together. It’s not just the sadness or the anxiety. It’s the inability to fully trust peace when it finally arrives.
But despite all that, today was still a good day.
I did things that future me will benefit from.
I took a small step toward reclaiming my health, my body, and maybe eventually my confidence too. Even joining the gym felt strangely emotional — like I was quietly admitting that maybe I do deserve a future version of myself worth investing in.
That’s not nothing.
And maybe recovery isn’t about suddenly feeling amazing and optimistic all the time. Maybe sometimes it’s just:
- recognising the negative spiral,
- refusing to completely believe it,
- and carrying on anyway.
So tonight I’m trying to hold onto one simple fact:
My brain may not trust good days yet.
But that doesn’t mean they aren’t real.
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