It’s come to the point where I have had to accept that actually, I’m struggling quite a lot with my mental health. I hate to think of myself as being depressed, or having mood issues, but that’s actually the reality of the situation. It’s not a matter of there being anything particularly wrong, just a matter of there being significant stress in my life, and not being able to keep everything balanced all the time. I’m trying hard to improve that situation, but it can be a long slow path to regaining proper balance, and while the stress can’t be eliminated, it can be reduced.
Funnily, the fact that I’ve acknowledged I have a problem has meant I’m not beating myself up so much for all the things I’ve let slide – the forgotten emails, the lack of progress on the writing front, or around the house. None of those things are really important just now – making sure my family is happy and healthy IS, and so that is where my main focus has been.
I really can’t do it all. But that doesn’t make me a failure. It makes me human. For so many years people have said to me ‘I don’t know how you do it all!’ ‘You’re super woman!” “You’re so amazing!” and I have felt like I needed to live up to those expectations. I LIKED being thought of as really productive and together, perhaps because inside, I don’t feel that way at all. I feel like a bit of a screw up, to be honest, like I’m flailing around and it’s pure luck that I get things done, most of the time. It’s easy for me to think that any success I have is down to other people, or chance, though in reality I do work hard.
Sounds like a contradiction, doesn’t it? Super woman, but not. Gaining things by luck alone, when clearly I’m a hard working individual. I didn’t invent the human brain, and it’s a complex thing, so I’m not going to try and explain how one can hold conflicting beliefs when faced with what is ‘real’. I know a few of you have called me on depression a couple times, even here on the blog, and I’ve brushed those thoughts aside until now because I really loathe that term, and everything that comes with it. I didn’t want it to be true, so denial seemed the best path. Of course, it doesn’t really help, not when you’re unable to function. Not when you’re paralyzed by fear or anxiety or sadness. Not when you can’t find a way through the mazes in your mind in order to do the things you need to do.
So I admit, I’m depressed. But I am okay – no need for anyone to worry. They say admitting you have a problem is the first step, right? Well, I do. I have a problem. And all I can do now is work on solving it.
Even when I’m struggling I still function on a day to day level pretty well, so now it’s just a matter of implementing the little things to help improve the overall balance. I’ve done it before, and I can do it again. I will do it again. And in the meantime, I’ll be going a bit easier on myself, kicking that ‘super woman’ expectation to the curb.
I’m mere mortal, and I’m okay with that.