Admitting you have a problem is the first step.
It's always darkest before the dawn.
I get by with a little help from my friends.
Tomorrow is another day.
In August, I shared that I was in desperate straits. Depressed and not coping well, I'd reached the end of my rope (see? A totally useful cliche!).
I admitted that I have a problem, that is wasn't going anywhere and that it was choking the breath out of me. Speaking this aloud, owning this sliver of reality, truly was the first and most important step.
Picking up the lifeline (i.e. phone) to seek professional help, man, it took me days to do it once I found the right number. It might have been a metaphoric pre-dawn, but it loomed dark indeed. As I placed the call, my hands trembled, I cleared my throat incessantly, I swallowed back tears. Then I was speaking to a live person and my voice cracked. I had to pause more than once so I wouldn't break down and sob. I curled into myself, a ball of shame with no face. If I couldn't see out, no one could see me.
But I made the call. I made it at work. I made it knowing when I was done, I could climb the stairs and tell my friends I'd scaled that impossible task. Because they had my back. I got by with a little help from my friends.
A monthish later finds me adjusting to therapy, a stint I never expected to repeat. But here's the good stuff I've reaped because I held onto the promise of a new day:
After a year and a half of owning it, I finally charged up my Fitbit. Last week I clocked in 29.42 miles (69,476 steps). That's more activity than I've seen in a year.
After two and a half months of dragging my feet on a final round of revisions to my WIP, I'm now five pages away from typing The End (okay, so technically, I've done that with this MS once before. But you're darn tootin' I'm gonna celebrate this milestone, mm-hmm.).
After being stuck for way too long, I feel like I've sprayed a bit of WD-40 on my life (I've been informed it is not DW40...but if I'd written that, you totally would have gotten what I meant, am I right?).
Now I'm free to move about the cabin.
What a difference a day makes.