I spent three years of my life just surviving and not living, it’s still affecting me.

My mental health wasn’t the best between the age of 13 and 16, due to several reasons. Now that I’m once more feeling good, I have to relearn how to live, it’s not going that well. Turns out it’s difficult getting out of the habits you had before. I learn every weekend that I actually have energy to spend time with real living humans and not just cats, that means that I theoretically could hang out with friends. But I don’t, simply because I’m still stuck in the same routines. But, like with many other things I’m getting better. I fully believe that eventually I will know that I have the energy to do all I want to do. Until then I will continue to push my boundaries one friend or museum visit at a time.            

Do you know how weird it is to step off the bus on a Friday afternoon and realise that you are actually feeling good? And then realise that just having that feeling is weird? Hopefully you don’t, if you do recognize yourself feel free to contact me, if you need to share. Sometimes I think about how bad I was feeling during that period, and then I get sad for the past me. I’m mourning the time when I was as good as dead. I don’t think that I accomplished anything during those three years, besides schoolwork. That is three years worth of unspent potential, three years of only barely managing to do what was expected of me, three years of not doing anything for myself. And that is just so fucking tragic.

The weirdest thing is that I’m mostly fine now, except for when I’m sad for past me, also when I’m feeling particularly upset over where I live. I do of course still have bad days, days when all I want to do is curl up in my bed and cry myself to sleep. But most of the time when I’m feeling sad it’s due to the past, not the present. It’s not surprising, just because I’m no longer “sick” doesn’t mean that I’m fully recovered, and honestly I don’t think that I’m ever going to be recovered. Those three years are now like a scar, they will always be with me and on occasion it will be bothersome. But bad days are just that; days. They will pass and then I will feel good again. Until then I may cry some, for the 13 year old me that didn’t know that it would get a lot better.

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