Self-Caring

Last weekend I was reflecting on how much real self-care I’ve given myself since getting sober. Not only is it beautiful to see myself starting to bloom after all those dark days, but it’s also a little jaw-dropping to see how much I neglected myself before making the decision to change. In just under five months, I’ve put myself first in ways I didn’t even know I needed to. I started therapy, which has been amazing and hard and beautiful and hopeful. I have started cleaning my house again…if you’ve ever struggled with depression, you know how hard that can be. I started taking care of my health and my appearance - aka showering more regularly, and actually putting effort in when I leave the house, and finally got a bunch of dental work done that was loooong overdue (I literally put my money where my mouth is hahahahelpmeimpoor). I’ve asked for help from friends and family more than ever before, which I never thought my pride would allow. I’ve also said no to more things that I would have typically either flaked or faked my way through previously.

Although they feel like such a big deal to me, these things are “normal” to others; so much so that I’m hesitant to bring it up in conversation, even though it brings me such absolute joy to recognize my progress outside of not drinking. It’s been hard to talk about this with friends because it seems to go one of two ways: they don’t see it as progress, or they minimize how far I’ve come. I don’t know if that’s a true lack of support or my own insecurities around where I am at this stage of life. Perhaps a bit of both. Perhaps they truly didn’t know how far down I was starting. Insert the iceberg effect, am I right? Don’t get me wrong, I am aware that a lot of things I’ve done in the last five months can be categorized as ordinary, but when guilt and shame are leading the way, it’s easy to stay focused on self-destruction and let self-care and self-love fly out the window. That being said, feeling vulnerable enough to talk about these things that feel so huge only for them to be reduced to “adulting” is like a slap in the face.

Regardless of how anyone else looks at me, I stan myself (are the kids still saying that these days?). I carry this progress with a beaming smile on my face, even on the days I have to remind myself that I am worthy of a good life. Even on the lonely nights when I feel like I have no one to turn to. Even in moments of weakness, when it’s easier to throw a pity party than to remain hopeful. But that’s my only option – to hold onto that beaming smile, remain hopeful and remind myself that I AM WORTHY.

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Gratitude > Self-Doubt