Category Archives: My Story

Since the last time I wrote, I had hoped that it would all be onward and upward, climbing higher, one step at a time.

But recovery is never linear. The line wobbles, falters, a hiccup here and there.

Sometimes, I get so caught up in the negative side of recovery that I forget to focus on the positive. My therapist keeps telling me that 1% improvement is still improvement. It doesn’t mean I need to run a marathon. It means I need to see myself doing more bit by bit.

I continue to be frustrated and frightened. I still have fluid on my lungs. The left side of my heart is stiff–it doesn’t relax like it should, so it creates a bottleneck of fluid in my lungs. My heart–like the rest of me–needs a chill pill and to relax, but neither of us really knowsContinue reading “Stepping”

Of course, I write a blog, and then something happens that I don’t want to forget. I wish it didn’t happen, but I don’t want it fade, even if it hurts. My son is freshly ten-years-old. He’s homeschooled, and I know part of that is hard on him. His father is adamant about homeschooling. BeforeContinue reading “Not Isolated”

Sometimes, I’m not sure who I am writing for. The point was this website was twofold: Unfortunately, I am not sure the goal two supports goal one. I’m honestly afraid that goal two may make me look a crazy person. Or depressed. Or unreliable. Or scary. Allow me to clarify: Yes, I have diagnosed PTSDContinue reading “Stuck”

I sit on the therapist’s couch and tap my toes, staring at the clock. I’m anxious, and that comes out in my ankles, my fingers, my toes, my eyes darting everywhere but her eyes, landing there only briefly to acknowledge human connection. Trained. It’s rude not to look at someone’s face while speaking, but I’veContinue reading “Grieve and Release … or something like it”