I’ve blogged recently about how I think recovery depression is something that is going to happen in it’s own sweet time and I’ve also gotten into a few discussions on other message boards about the benefits of therapy. It’s amazing how peoples’ views vary so wildly on this topic. I think my husband and I have finally agreed that recovery can be facilitated or delayed by doing things that are either beneficial or detrimental to your physical and mental state. For example, someone who is downing a bottle of vodka a day will most definitely not recover as fast as if they were exercising and eating healthy. Fine. I feel like that is stating the obvious. Where I am in disagreement with a lot of people is whether it’s the chicken or the egg. Is it the therapy that initiates the start of recovery or is it the beginning of the healing stages that make you able and willing to participate in your recovery?

Well…I have to say that right now…I am being a bit of a hypocrite. I am NOT taking care of myself. In fact I am beating the living hell out of myself. I’ve cut way back on calories. I am punishing myself in the gym. I’m jacked up on stimulants (legal OTC of course). And probably the thing that should be taking the biggest toll on me is my decision to announce to the world that I’m going to get up on stage and compete. Two years ago this type of stress would have killed me. It would have caused panic attacks and insomnia. I would have to drink something or pop something to get any relief. I would whole myself up away from the world and plant myself in front of the TV.

But oddly enough…I am more productive, more social, more motivated and more mentally relaxed than ever. My heart is racing from the caffeine…I’m starving…I’m bouncing off the walls…but I have the capacity to enjoy and to take in deep breaths…and I am going to sleep like a baby tonight. I can’t explain any of this. I really can’t. My husband keeps telling me that he’s always believed in me and I can do anything…yadda yadda yadda. Thank you sweetie! I appreciate that SO much! But right now…what is shocking the hell out of me is that I believe in me. I don’t know. Maybe after all these years of depression I’ve gone manic. Maybe I’m just totally off my rocker and this is just the beginning of me cracking up. But something has clicked.

Maybe it’s the exercise. Maybe it’s all the whole foods. Maybe it’s because my every day life is full of doing things that I love instead of things I have to do. But I’m not going to therapy and I’m not medicated with happy pills. I don’t do cognitive behavioral therapy. I don’t practice positive self talk. I don’t read self help books. I don’t do yoga. But I am 200% the person I used to be. Maybe I’ve just gained some perspective and I realize that you can’t go any lower than where I was. So I have no fear of ever feeling any worse. Maybe I just subconsciously don’t give a shit what people say or think about me. Who knows. All I know is that this has all happened with time and no one in my life can pinpoint when and where it started. There was no silver bullet or magic pill. There was no breakthrough therapy session. There was no big AHA moment. Happiness and contentment just snuck up on me.

And while I’m talking about recovery and my well being…I might as well throw in another before and after pic. I so enjoy doing that.

Ha! Take that depression!