I have two major challenges in my day-to-day life. First, my anxiety. Second, working with people who are dying and having anxiety. For the most part, I keep my anxiety under raps. I avoid things that heighten my anxiety the best that I can, however, sometimes my mental illness has a “mind” of its own.
In knowing this, in knowing that my mental illness can swoop into my bodily functions like a thief in night, I put extra pressure on myself. I try my hardest to think positive, I try my hardest to keep a smile on my face, try my hardest to be that shoulder for my patients to cry on or vent to. When I feel like anxiety has won that day, I am humiliated. I am frustrated. I feel like a failure who lost a long battle with fear. I say to myself “dammit!! Now i have to start all over with my recovery tactics!” Immediately, I feel like all the days that Ive conquered meant nothing. All the days that I have reached my small goals of being “unbothered” have just disappeared.
“Good days. Bad days. God is in all days.” -Marc Lucado
The reality of it all is that, I am just having a bad fucking day. Today, I am just exhausted from trying. Today, I am tired of forward-thinking . Today, I am tired of forcing myself to recover from this illness that has made a home in my life. Today, I am tired of soaking up other people’s emotions. Today, I am tired of being tired.
And, it is perfectly fucking fine. It is okay. It is okay to have many great days of constant determination, blood, sweat, and tears and it is also okay, to have one bad fucking day.
#iamstilldoinggreat #youarestilldoinggreat #wecanhaveonebadfuckingday