I asked Dr. Margolis
today if he thought I could still improve, & he said that's why he does
progress reports - because he wants a chance to talk with his patients, and
also see if there's measurable improvement.
For me, his answer is yes,
he can see actual improvement from the last time he saw me. He noted that
because he's gotten to know me, he has a real sense of how I'm progressing, beyond
purely standard measurements.
Which brings me to an
idea that keeps rolling around in my head - that I need to compare myself to a
previous point post-illness, not pre-illness. I'm realizing more & more
that the picture I have in my head of what I'm "supposed" to be
moving towards is really unfair to myself.
Picturing myself doing
some of the things I did before I got sick makes me feel like a failure. But that's
totally unfair to myself, & just plain wrong. I didn't ask to get sick,
& I've made a lot of progress. It's taken a long time, for a lot of
reasons, but my progress is real. So the question for me is how to re-tool my life.
Rebuilding doesn't necessarily
mean building the exact same structure all over again. Thinking outside the
box, thinking differently needs to happen.
It's hard to recognize
my PTSD anxiety sometimes. Sometimes it's an unmistakable, uncomfortable
feeling. But sometimes it's disguised as depression, as a feeling of stuckness,
of "what's the point of all this, anyway?".
I also still always
worry about things going wrong - really wrong. It's hard to move past that
feeling. I hate that I have to pace myself, & I worry that if I don't get
it right - the pacing, that is - there's that "uh oh" feeling. Same
thing when I challenge myself. I worry that I won't recover. But if I let all
that negative, anxious stuff get in the way of thinking that some things can
still be possible, it's like a huge dark blanket over my brain.
That blanket sucks out
every bit of light. There's no room for creativity, or imagination. For
thinking outside the box. Saying "OK, maybe you won't do what you once
did, but maybe there are still possibilities for you. You really just need one
or two ideas to work - not dozens!"
I've got to let all
those bits of rehab work in me, like little bits of light coming through little
openings in the negative, anxious blanket that threatens to cover me up. Those bits of light can add up to something.
