Today has been one of those frustrating days.
On paper, I actually got things done. I made soup from yesterday’s leftover roast vegetables, measured myself for my leather jeans, sorted out emails and generally kept life moving forward.
But emotionally? I felt exhausted.
I ended up back in bed for a while and had to force myself to get up again. The gym, which has become an important part of feeling human again, simply wasn’t happening. I knew I wouldn’t get a decent workout with the energy levels I had, so I’ve moved it to tomorrow instead.
And that’s the bit I’m still trying to learn.
Because part of me immediately interprets days like this as failure. A warning sign. Proof that I’m somehow sliding backwards.
But when I stop and look at things properly, I know that isn’t true.
The last few weeks have actually been full of change. I’ve made new friends, rediscovered parts of myself I thought I’d lost, tried new experiences, started making plans again and, perhaps most importantly, started allowing myself hope.
The trouble is that hope comes with feelings. Lots of them.
Sometimes I think recovery is particularly cruel because once you start wanting things again, you also start worrying about losing them.
Tonight I’m feeling low. I’m worried about parts of my future that still feel uncertain. I’m frustrated that some areas of my life seem so difficult to fix.
But I also know something else.
These feelings pass.
They always do.🤞
Perhaps the biggest lesson Operation Restoration keeps trying to teach me is that rest isn’t failure, and low days aren’t the same as going backwards.
It’s a lesson I’m still learning.
Bloody inconvenient, isn’t it?
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