This is a Really Real Mental Health post.
So, I’ve been really torn about writing this. It seems silly to celebrate something that most people just, do. But it also feels like a really big deal, to me.
As of this week I’ve been working for 6 months.
I’m fighting the urge to minimize. Fighting the urge to say “I did it, but . . . “
But, the truth is, this wasn’t possible for a long long while. This wasn’t within the realm of my abilities. I could barely make it to doctors appointments, and then I could barely keep up with school work, and then I could barely keep up with volunteering. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to work again.
And now, I struggle, I take mental health days, I’m not always at my best, but I’m holding down a job.
I’m working like a real adult.
And still, in the back of my mind there is the not-so-quiet voice telling me, I’m only kind of doing it. I work from home, I work for family, it’s just part time.
It’s not a real job.
I haven’t done anything special.
But also, I have.
Working is scary. Working is hard. Working leaves room for failure and mistakes.
Sometimes, working sucks.
And yet, I am.
I’m doing the thing.
It’s taken me a long while to get here, but I’m doing the thing.