Until you start climbing out of a hole, you don't always know how deep it is. I knew I had had a rough winter. I just didn't know how bad it was, because it hadn't felt that bad. But it might have been the worst ever.

Curiously, although I have a certificate in counselling and have benefited from psychotherapy in the past, I didn't seek help this time. I'm not sure why, especially considering how bad this was. I guess I found help in other ways—my Sweetie, my friends, music, writing. Thinking and reflecting. I guess I found some resources within myself too.

Last night was the full moon, half a lunar cycle from when I stopped self-medicating with something I love far too much and have never been able to control. I knew that even though meds were isolating me and robbing me of self-confidence, they also created a cozy life. Not one that I wanted any longer, but cozy and safe nonetheless. I was under no illusion that going cold turkey was going to be the answer to getting out of the hole. But I knew it was a necessary beginning.

The past fortnight has indeed sometimes been difficult. I find myself on the edge of tears more often than is normal even for Ms. Highly Sensitive Person. I still have a long way to go to rebuild the life I want to have. Climbing out of the hole is a bitch, and sometimes I slide backwards. But I'm not giving up.

There were good things during the climb. Sweetie and I saw a fantastic production of My Fair Lady put on my our local musical theatre. We saw an excellent film called Traceable about how we so rarely know where our clothes really come from and how many hands they have passed through, but that technology makes this increasingly possible. We had an amazing dinner at Fable put on Fable's executive chef, Trevor Bird, with the chef who won his season of Top Chef Canada, Carl Heinrich. We met a couple there with whom we will get together again! Despite a cold, I successfully auditioned for a solo (duet really) at the upcoming Femme City Choir concerts. And we saw a very good film at Doxa (documentary festival) called Tab Hunter Confidential about what it was like for one man to be a closeted teen idol in the 1950s.

A fortnight can't change everything, but you can't get where you want to go without the first step, and the next step, and however many more it takes. I'm not looking back.

No comments: