Perfection

Look, recovery is not easy. I’m exhausted. I’m feeling emotions I don’t want to. I’m upset with myself for being this way. I obsess over the idea that maybe one day I’ll be “normal” and can party like the rest of the world. I feel left out. I feel the weight of the condition of our nation, of our world. I’m stressed. I’m overwhelmed.

When I got out of rehab in November, I feel like people expected me to be perfect, as if getting sober would be the cure for bad days.

As if getting sober would cure my bipolar disorder.
As if getting sober would solve the puzzle that is my borderline personality.
As if getting sober would make every day for the rest of my life flawless.

It didn’t and it hasn’t;the pressure that I feel to be good enough is crushing me.

I have bad days. I still get depressed (especially because getting into my psychiatrist has been a nightmare and I’ve been off my medications for two weeks). I still depend on people in ways that I shouldn’t. I’m still a work in a progress.

I will always be a work in progress.

I don’t think recovery ever ends. Sure, it’s something that I’ll get better at as time goes on, but it’s something that I’m always going to be working on.

So, I will not apologize for my bad days. I won’t apologize for my depression or for feeling too much. And I certainly won’t apologize for not measuring up to whatever it is some of you imagined my life in recovery would look like.

I claim progress, never perfection.

With hope,
Donaven


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