My grief counselor just came back from maternity leave, so we have been catching up on how things have been going since I last saw her in January. When I look at the last three months I can list all of the things I've been doing and working on for my health and my mental health. I started running (...again) and have been training for a 5k. I started weight watchers and it kind of makes me crazy, and I haven't exactly stuck to tracking every single thing I eat, but I have been eating really healthy, cutting sugar, drinking copious amounts of water. Progress is slow and steady. On my non-training days I either do a workout video or go for a hike. I've been getting outside. I've gone to the doctor and the dentist because it's been years... And I've been doing the things the doctor and dentist told me to do. For all of the celebrations that have come along I've done something good for someone (valentines for kids in the hospital, party for refugee kids for Eli's birthday). I have gone to a few social events. I see my friends. When I'm able to focus I read or crochet. I let myself rest a lot (and try not to feel guilty).
And none of it helps.
Sometimes I have a good day. Sometimes there are weeks and weeks where I can hardly get out of bed. There doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to any of it.
Sure, there are certain days that are just going to be hard no matter what. Birthdays, holidays, medical anniversaries, etc. But I've been down for the count since about mid-March. And today is the first day I'm not finding my way back to my bed. Yet.
My counselor told me that she's not surprised nothing is helping. That it's good for me to be doing these things, all the same. But there is no fix. And there never will be.
If you need me I'll probably be laying in bed, convincing myself over a two-hour period to go for a 30-minute run.
No comments:
Post a Comment