(1/29) I’ve been having some thoughts on lived experience and “recovery” lately. I know it’s a hot issue, and I have some things to say.
— Laurel Ann Whitlock (@twirlandswirl) March 10, 2016
(2/29) A lot of people look at “recovery” as an unattainable ideal - I know I did. It seems like suicidal thoughts are just part of you now.
— Laurel Ann Whitlock (@twirlandswirl) March 10, 2016
(3/29) Even more complicated, I felt if I ever did recover, I’d lose part of myself. A part of myself I’d LIKE to lose, but who would I be?
— Laurel Ann Whitlock (@twirlandswirl) March 10, 2016
(4/29) I wanted to feel better, of course. I wanted to fight to be over. I wanted to be happy. But I felt like recovery was foreign.
— Laurel Ann Whitlock (@twirlandswirl) March 10, 2016
(5/29) But I realized something - something that seems obvious, but that just hit me. Recovery is a road. It’s a process. You change.
— Laurel Ann Whitlock (@twirlandswirl) March 10, 2016
(6/29) I guess I’d envisioned it like a sudden transformation. Like, *poof*! You’re well! Now go figure out the world! On your own!
— Laurel Ann Whitlock (@twirlandswirl) March 10, 2016
(7/29) But instead of that drastic 180 I’d feared, I’ve BEEN recovering for years. Where I am now, WHO I am now, IS my recovery.
— Laurel Ann Whitlock (@twirlandswirl) March 10, 2016
(8/29) Am I “better?” No. Improved? Yes. Can I look back on who I was and see how far I’ve come? Absolutely. Am I still that person? Yes.
— Laurel Ann Whitlock (@twirlandswirl) March 10, 2016
(9/29) I’ve had people say I don’t seem “mentally ill.” I hold a job (or 3). I’m married. I have a great relationship with family. I cope.
— Laurel Ann Whitlock (@twirlandswirl) March 10, 2016
(10/29) But I was that person - the one who cries for attention because they are desperate to be heard. Who goes numb to hide from the pain.
— Laurel Ann Whitlock (@twirlandswirl) March 10, 2016
(11/29) I’ve tuned out the world for days. I’ve spent nights up, shaking, afraid to move because I don’t trust myself. Scared of life.
— Laurel Ann Whitlock (@twirlandswirl) March 10, 2016
(12/29) I’ve gone to a psych appointment and slumped on the couch, staring blankly into space because I can’t form words in my broken mind.
— Laurel Ann Whitlock (@twirlandswirl) March 10, 2016
(13/29) I’ve felt my chest caving in from uncontrollable anxiety. I’ve cried, screamed, and thrown things like I child because I can’t cope.
— Laurel Ann Whitlock (@twirlandswirl) March 10, 2016
(14/29) I’ve done all these things more than once. These things defined my life for so long. I have shame, but I also see hope. My future.
— Laurel Ann Whitlock (@twirlandswirl) March 10, 2016
(15/29) I say these things because I’ve been there. When you see me, I’ve been there. When you say I don’t seem sick, I’ve been there.
— Laurel Ann Whitlock (@twirlandswirl) March 10, 2016
(16/29) And it’s not gone. It’s my past, and it made me who I am today. I grew and I learned and I mended the cracks as best I could.
— Laurel Ann Whitlock (@twirlandswirl) March 10, 2016
(17/29) I graduated college. I found love. I’ve held together my marriage. I’m working my dream job and getting by. I am succeeding.
— Laurel Ann Whitlock (@twirlandswirl) March 10, 2016
(18/29) I never thought of any of this as recovery. I thought of it as part of being broken. I felt like I scraping by, not getting better.
— Laurel Ann Whitlock (@twirlandswirl) March 10, 2016
(19/29) And then one day, there I was. Driving to the space coast to take pictures of rockets. Giddy with excitement. Loving my life.
— Laurel Ann Whitlock (@twirlandswirl) March 10, 2016
(20/29) I still feel broken. I still fight. Maybe it is part of me that will never go away, but recovery isn’t a magic fix or a clean slate.
— Laurel Ann Whitlock (@twirlandswirl) March 10, 2016
(21/29) It’s the life I’ve always had. The life I’ve had to fight for. And it’s mine. What I’ve been through makes me fight harder.
— Laurel Ann Whitlock (@twirlandswirl) March 10, 2016
(22/29) It hasn’t killed me yet and I’m determined not to let it. Not because I’m currently mostly well but because I have been very unwell.
— Laurel Ann Whitlock (@twirlandswirl) March 10, 2016
(23/29) Instead of laughing and saying recovery is impossible, I should have taken a step back realized I’m already living it. I’m there.
— Laurel Ann Whitlock (@twirlandswirl) March 10, 2016
(24/29) It doesn’t mean I don’t still have miles to go. But it means I’ve gone miles. It means I have a husband who loves me, a life I want.
— Laurel Ann Whitlock (@twirlandswirl) March 10, 2016
(25/29) “Recovery is possible!” seems like a feel-good platitude to get someone through crisis. But it isn’t a lie - it’s a beautiful truth.
— Laurel Ann Whitlock (@twirlandswirl) March 10, 2016
(26/29) It isn’t scary oy huge or monumental. It’s tiny, minor things - these tweets and waking up every morning and every breath I take.
— Laurel Ann Whitlock (@twirlandswirl) March 10, 2016
(27/29) So maybe if you have enough fight in you to argue that recovery isn’t possible, you’re farther into it than you thought.
— Laurel Ann Whitlock (@twirlandswirl) March 10, 2016
(28/29) And some day you’ll look back and realize where you were and where you are and that everything in between made you better.
— Laurel Ann Whitlock (@twirlandswirl) March 10, 2016
(29/29) Anyway. Those are the thoughts I’ve been having. I’m always here to talk if you have any questions. It’s not over, but it’s going.
— Laurel Ann Whitlock (@twirlandswirl) March 10, 2016
