So it's been two years since I posted anything here, apparently. A lot has changed in the past two years. I find it interesting that apparently the last post I made had to do with waking up...because just a few weeks from that post, I was as lost as I've ever been in my life.
I spent the day today cleaning the kitchen, because God knows I will never get ahead in the cleaning department, kitchen or apartment or car. I hate myself for it, to be honest. And today, I checked the date and said...well, maybe I should cut myself a bit of slack.
Two years ago this month I was unable to do ANYTHING. I spent entire days in my bed, one after the other. I'd get up to eat, sometimes, something--one day I couldn't talk myself beyond crackers and cheese and some water. And I'd pee. Some days I'd go without ever turning any of the lights on, and I'd be up for 23 hours straight.
It was a nightmare.
When Dr. Hanna was able to see me and we were able to sort it out, and put me on a different medication for depression, life changed. I remember vividly giving myself tasks for the day: get out of bed by noon. Spend at least three hours in the living room. Remember to turn the lights on. Don't sit in the dark. I would be so proud if I could just accomplish these things. Days that I could get out of the house and I didn't have to go to either choir or church were...wondrous to me. I could leave the house and not feel overwhelmed by the universe. I'm tearing up now, just remembering how I felt to get out of the house and not want to just turn around and go back, and be actually glad to be somewhere else and feel up to the task.
It really did get that bad.
It's two years later, on the eve of another anniversary I wish I did not know about--and that's not the point of this post. The point of this post is to say this:
It's possible to recover.
I'm never going to be a good housekeeper. I come by this failing honestly, as my mother was not famed for it either. And there are days that I cannot do much more than go to work and come home and make myself dinner...but these are things I was COMPLETELY incapable of exactly two years ago.
I go to work, seven hours a day, five days a week. I get things done. I see students. I keep records. I still think I'm a marginal therapist, but those I work with seem grateful for my willingness to work with these kids, and I guess that's what counts right now.
I also go to the gym several times a week. I've started doing things with the Sacramento Geeks Group, who have graciously invited me to a Very Buffy Halloween--really, it doesn't get more Kate than Buffy (unless the X-Files are involved!). I still haven't found a church I like, but I think I'm ready to dip my toes out there again. The church in question has music I abhor--that's the best way to put it--but I've evaluated the teachings and they are, for the most part, Biblically sound and not rules-oriented. It's as good a place to start as any.
So maybe it's ok that only a few loads of laundry get done. The kitchen is clean enough for the moment--not tidy, but the counters and stove are cleaned, and I made myself some really good food.
I'm not stuck, and I have a sense of gratitude and maybe, just maybe...hope.
