It’s two weeks now since I came out of hospital. Two weeks; it feels much longer. Already, I can look back on that period and think, ‘My God, I was really, really unwell, wasn’t I?’
It’s a huge blessing that I seem to have bounced back a lot quicker than I did after my first inpatient admission. I guess the fact that my medications haven’t been changed – only the doses – made for a shorter settling-in period.
But this seemingly fast recovery comes with a caution, and that’s that I need to make a conscious effort to pace myself.
The temptation is to throw myself headlong into normal life again. Back to work, back to the school runs, back to cooking and cleaning and Hotshots and everything else I usually do. And that’s a good thing in some ways; in a ‘fake it till you make it’ way, getting back to my usual routine is helping me feel more like myself.
But I do need to remind myself that it IS only two weeks since I came out of hospital. If I do too much, too soon, I’m in danger of running myself into the ground.
Pacing myself is hard because after the best part of two months out of action, I feel guilty about the time I lost and the burden that placed on Ian and others, and am compelled to make up for it.
It’s also emotionally and physically exhausting to try to be the person I am when I’m well, when I’m still in recovery – and at the early stages of recovery, for that matter.
What makes it harder is when people tell me I’m looking well. It’s great to hear that encouragement, but it also makes me feel under pressure to act as well as I look. Already, pasting on that smile and forcing myself to be ‘up’ all the time is taking its toll. That’s why, after an afternoon talking to Nick and Cherry about my involvement in church life, I was completely drained and felt very fragile.
The fact is, I’m not very good at pacing myself. But I must try. Because I really want this to be the start of a long period of stability, not just a temporary good spell leading up to another burnt-out crash.
Lucy's Depression Diary 