I separate my life into two categories: Before I was “sick” and After I became “sick.” If you have kept up with this blog you know the successful type of life I used to lead with a career and friends and travel, etc. I am sure it isn’t the best way to look at it, but other people do it too – before kids and after, before they moved to a new city and after. The other day I caught myself feeling sorry for myself and broke down in front of my father. I sobbed and he asked what was wrong and I couldn’t even speak, through choked tears I told him that morning I had realized that this illness has robbed years of my life. Months of depression. Weeks of psych wards. Fear of leaving the house or going places. I am 36 and I feel like I should be further along in life.

My dad reminded me to look at what I had accomplished. That turned things around. I had moved several times. I had made new friends. I had written a book. I bought a house. It had NOT been a complete waste of time.

Every night I dream about people from the past – boyfriends, friends from high school, college, the “good times.” I haven’t quite figured it out and hope my new therapist and I can get past it because I am tired of living in the past. I believe it is because those were the times when I was happy, before I got “sick.” If you can relate to the Before and After, I am sure you know what I mean.

Sometimes when you are mentally ill you feel like you are stuck, idle; like you can’t move in any direction except backwards. That isn’t true. You gotta keep truckin’. Make goals, however small, and do you best to achieve them. You don’t have to write a damn book, just take a shower.