It’s been almost three weeks since my last update, and a lot has changed in the time since then. I’ve done a lot of thinking on that recent mental relapse and all of the unhelpful thought & behavior loops that fed into it, so as to permanently distance myself from it all. Becoming that ideal self I’m always writing about, the one that actually practices that stoic resilience that I adulate, means giving up the comfort of running back to those old familiar habits. Clinging to them and fighting the same battles I already know is easier than holding myself to the higher standards I set for myself and self actualizing.
In this recent round of self-reflection and mental debugging, I learned a lot about myself, things I do want to drill down to in finer detail later on. Most importantly, I’ve come out of it not feeling like I’m having to convince myself that I’ve “figured things out”, but rather feeling as if another piece of the myself has fallen into rightful place. Back in January, I wrote that I felt myself closer to the goal than I did my starting point all those years ago. Indeed, what’s taken me three weeks to do with a clear and focused mind used to take me months with questionable outcome in times past.
I acknowledged that the road ahead would be a difficult one at the start of the year. Forfeiting an entire identity and becoming a complete nobody to myself was a challenge in itself. Figuring out the person I actually wanted to be and convincing myself I could make the change, that I wasn’t the lost cause I felt myself to be, another huge obstacle in the personal journey. Having started to actively enact that change, my previous posts feel more and more foreign to me when I reread them – which leaves me feeling as if I’m finally able to legitimately speak on matters of overcoming depression and personal betterment.
All these past years, the majority of my 20’s, lost to overcoming the aftermath of the life that once was. Having to walk away from it all and start from scratch was my only escape from the spiral of depressive madness, and my strong sense of recall did not help matters; being capable of mentally reliving the memories you’re sacrificing makes it that much harder to let go of them. In turn, it feels like I’m born again at the age of 29, finally a “real” person again and immediately in debt with the task of cleaning up after my recent past, on multiple levels.
And it’s now nothing but more doable work that needs be done.