opening windows

The reality is that every time I do one of my daily goals I am building and growing. 

I still keep getting caught up in rumination, but I just have to keep moving away from the rumination and moving towards my goals - towards doing stuff and being occupied. 

It sometimes bothers me that I don't really know how to do this. I don't really know how to be happy or mentally healthy. It's not like there is some state of wellbeing that I can return to. 

It's a scary thought, thinking about all the stuff I need to work through - all the issues I have and how damaged I am. 

But I'm learning that it doesn't matter. 

Making progress is not a matter of 'working through' all my issues and trauma. All of that stuff has no bearing on the new me. It's just irrelevant. 

Grass doesn't need to know how to grow, it just happens naturally. 

Rumination still has such a grip on me. It still stops me and keeps me inactive and keeps me stuck. But at least I know what the struggle is now. 

When I'm in my old state - being the old me - it's like the new me doesn't exist, and I imagine the old me having to do all these things that seem really difficult for the old me. I look to the days ahead and I'm overwhelmed about things I have to do.

Part of me sees that this is a really good struggle. Like, even though it seems like such a bleak situation that it takes me a lot of strength and courage to do ordinary things, that's a good thing. It's good to have that opportunity to have strength and courage. 

But also, it's going somewhere. This is a process, and it's leading to a good place. And it's a very secure place. There's nothing tentative about it. 

There are so many good analogies that capture what is happening and that I've been writing about. 

There's the analogy of the house of fear and pain that I've built and that I live in. The house made by my rumination. It's my refuge. That's the way my mind works. As I do my daily goals, I'm stepping out of that house, and every time I step out of that house it becomes less real and my own wider world becomes more of a home to me. And it's a one way process. Every step in a positive direction is permanent progress. 

Then there's the analogy of the tree (or the seedling) and the storm. The seedling is my new life as defined by my daily goals. It's so vital - so real and substantial, but because it's new, it's unrealized. It's still hard to even believe in. The storm is very obvious and seems really dangerous. I'm still in the storm. 

The good thing is that I have some control over this. I can actually beat the storm, and I do beat the storm. As time goes by I have more and better windows and less severe waves. I'm surprised at times by how good things are getting and how rumination and fear and all that stuff is losing its grip on me. Then, sometimes I'm taken by surprise by how hard the struggle still is. 

It's definitely up and down. I've been to a kind of hell, and in that hell I've changed. I've learned not to take the easy escape, because that's the route to death. I don't collapse and become helpless and desperate. I don't look to be rescued. And when I am literally falling apart, I keep trying. I'm not perfect, but I'm better than I was.