“I’m terrified but I’m doing it anyway”. That’s been my accidental mantra this year.
I could not have done this without my friends. I am so hashtag blessed with friends who are excellent and inspiring and supportive. They have really helped me to find my way out of the darkness and into the light.
If you feel down and disheartened then I want you to know that I can’t even begin to tell you how much my life has changed in the last two years. Two years ago I thought everything was lost. I did not see the point. I had no idea why I was still going but I kept going anyway and somehow it got better. It did not get better quickly. It did not get better momentously. There was no makeover reveal moment when my life suddenly looked a lot better. To be honest I am still kind of waiting for that.
It got better *really* slowly. I mean painfully slowly; sometimes the progress was so slow it felt like I was standing still. Sometimes I was standing still. Sometimes I have gone backwards. For example, Mark’s death led to me losing the ability to cry again for a long time, I could not properly cry for fear of never stopping for about six months. Grief is weird and different for everyone, that is how it gripped me.
But on Sunday night, greeting over a lovely message from an online friend, I realised I can cry again. It crept up on me. Because it does creep up on you; the change is so slow you won’t notice it, and that is okay because one day it has happened and you are there. It’s slow and it’s hard and it feels insurmountable but it gets better. My life is not perfect. I have (relatively small) debt, I am clinically obese, I have a tonne of health conditions. But I know it gets better.
It gets better. It gets better. It gets better. A year ago I still thought I was worthless. That’s taken a long time to change and I still don’t fully trust it. But it happened for me. For *me*, the person who thought that the reason her marriage had ended was that she was not worthy of love; because her mental illness made it impossible to love her, because she was too ugly to love, too stupid to love, too forward to love, too socially inept to love, too loud to love and somehow also far too withdrawn to love. I got there. I got there even though I did not think this would ever happen to me.
It gets better. It gets better. It gets better. I want to tell you all that. It gets better. Depression lies. You are worthy of love. You’re not a failure. We want you here. I want you here. Keep going. Please. I don’t want to keep this lesson to myself. I want to share it with you all. It gets better. It. Gets. Better.