Good God. I cannot believe I have reached chapter 50 of my mental health journey. I must say it has been anything BUT linear and life has thrown us so many curveballs since I started this blog over two and a half years ago.
My first post was a reminder to myself and everyone that it is not just OK, but extremely important for us to feel safe to take the medication we need and to bash down walls of stigma surrounding mental health.
Then... I fell... And my list of prescribed medications became ridiculous and I am constantly gripped by fear... that I am dependent on them and I will never be able to live life without them. I've been through this before, and I accepted that I would be on medication for life, so why is this shame gremlin back and haunting me? Why do I feel like it's ok for cancer patients to deserve pain relief, but I don't? As progressive as I may think I am regarding other people's mental health, I sure am nasty to myself.
Between grief, never-ending pain and not having been able to get myself out of the anger phase of grieving for my loss of mobility, my career, my father... and so much more. I didn't realize how angry I was. And how ashamed I am of what I have become.
Anger is an emotion that I've always had difficulty processing. Depression? I can do that. Sadness? No problemo. But anger? That's a tough one for me. I've always made emotional origami out of it and turned it inwards. But that only lasts so long. And its super healthy to internalise anger instead of honouring it.
I have many things to be proud of, like becoming a real author, rediscovering my voice and realising that I am now probably a better vocalist than I have ever been. But so many days, I cannot see the forest through the trees.
Watching my incredible partner work horrible hours and still needing his help with dinner if I'm having a bad pain day... breaks my heart.
I've been financially reliant on myself since I was 15 and this is the first time since I was a child, that I have had to surrender to allowing someone to look after me.
Waiting for policies and unemployment and so many other things to pay out has been extremely hard. The bureaucracy is enough to make anyone homicidal. I am making progress though. The idea is to just keep harassing the institutions that hope I will just go away.
Thank goodness I have 
I am still alive, I am valuable, I am loved and my life is not hopeless. I think I need to create a vision board for myself and put up some affirmation posters around my room to remind me of who I really am. I am a mother, a wife, a sister, a friend, half of an awesome band and despite everything that I see as negative, my future is bright.
Brené Brown talks a lot about foreboding joy in her book Daring Greatly, and that means, as soon as something positive and happy happens, it's like my brain grapples to just enjoy the happiness. I somehow manage to find or even invent a "bad side" and that is a habit I need to consciously reprogram through mindfulness.
I have realised in the last few days, that I need to stop fighting with and shaming myself. I HAVE to come to terms with my physical disability and I deserve to grant myself grace as I try to find the right psychiatric medication for my depression, OCD, and insomnia. I need to let go of what was, and forgive myself... and then take some time to really look at who I am now and embrace this new Claire.
I think ... actually... she's surprisingly cool. I just wish she'd treat herself with more kindness.