He said it’s like I’m climbing up from the depths of hell on a hot metal ladder trying to reach the top until I find it. A ledge to rest on. A ledge still somewhere in hell, but one I can sit on, waiting until I once again have to force myself to get back on that burning ladder.
But the problem is, until today, I haven’t realized that I am just sitting here. I sit here today still feeling pain, depression, and exhaustion wondering why my meds are just not doing the job without realizing that I am not working as hard as I should be.
Sometimes I think my psychiatrist knows me better than anyone I have ever met. I am lucky to have found him because without his honest words I would not realize that I wasn’t working hard enough. Not realizing that I’ve been deceiving myself.
It is easy when pain is no longer excruciating, but bearable to think that this is the way it is going to be. It is easy to believe that you have done your duty and it is the drugs that are not lining up. After seven intensive years of therapy it is easy to believe that I have done all the work necessary and that the pain and depression are, in fact, a part of my personality. But they’re not.
I have been told, and I hope to believe it, that there is a top of the ladder. That there is solid ground on which I can rest; solid ground where I can feel safe and secure and happy. But it will take work.
I can’t imagine going through this alone. I know I am a lucky one. Without someone to tell me, “Look, you’re doing that thing you do, where you shut out the pain and act pleasant and nice so I stop asking questions”. I can’t imagine not having someone to call me out as I deceive myself again and again.
But I’m glad I know now, that I know that there is a higher ground, that there is a place where I won’t have to feel pain all the time. And though I know life can never be completely pain-free I know I can get there.