Recovery from mental illness is a very…complex procedure. Many of us, with good intention, show the good bits. The good days, the sunshine and even the occasional rainbow. The times when we manage to eat properly, and have showered, and gotten dressed.
It’s important to show those parts. They are worth the effort. They can serve as motivation I think.
But for that to be true… we need to remember that bad days still exist. Those deserve to be shown as well. Today, aside from going to therapy I have done exactly fuck all. Sat in my clothes, watching shit all day (I mean not literally, Rick and Morty is currently my go to show for binging hours at a time). And my hair was a mess, and greasy, and I felt pretty shitty about it. But one of the things we must remember when trying to get better is that accepting bad days is part of the process.
They, after all, serve a reason. I’m not quite sure what that reason is for me, but I’m working on it, at my own pace. The part of me that I’m currently having a fallout with tried to tell me that I should be doing something. Anything. That I can’t just sit and watch T.V for the day.
Well.. why not? I had naught else to do, I wasn’t feeling great and cuddling up on the sofa with a pot of tea once a few days is no harm to anyone. And, in the end I did manage to do something productive. I am writing this after all, so the day is not wasted.
I will celebrate that. With a little happy dance, I will celebrate, because even the bad days are progress. Even when they don’t feel like it.