Sometimes, Motivation Is A Myth

A month ago, I made an attempt. I stayed in the hospital for the 4th time in a year. Every day since has been a battle to fill this endless void in what seems to be my soul. That sounds dramatic, but that is exactly how I feel. Every day, I have this pit in my stomach, this voice in my head taunting me to end it all, and this overpowering, discouraging feeling of exhaustion. Every night, I wake up from tossing a turning and being chased by dogs and shooters and past mistakes in my nightmares. Medication helped dampen these vivid dreams, but they are still there. Sometimes, the only thing keeping me from acting on my urges is a fear of failing and once again being stuck in non-slip hospital socks and scrubs that smell of all-too-familiar sterile, medical-grade detergent.

I've really been giving it my all, and I have still such a long way to go. My psychologist likes to say that motivation is a myth. I can't wait until I want to do something to begin doing something. Sometimes, a change of behavior precedes a change in sentiment.

I've been going to work, prepping lunch, eating when I don't feel like it, socializing when I want nothing more than to be alone, getting out of bed when the thought of another fresh day is unbearable. I've been taking cold showers when I'm dysregulated, picking up my phone and responding to texts, calling my insurance company to get reimbursements, doing my taxes.

I am seriously struggling, and I have days when even the fake-it-till-I-make-it mentality goes out the window. The pain is immense. I sure hope that my courage to fight it is greater.