I've been running well but experiencing pain in my left knee. It acts up every now and then, causing more pain the more I run. But I can't give up running. I'm afraid of doing more damage and yet I'm not doing anything for it. There's no obvious swelling to ice and the pain is difficult to locate. It's behind the knee, slightly on the left or on the outside of the left knee. It hurts when I land on my feet. It's tight when I bend it.
My mood has been better than its been. Pretty flat, but that's normal for me. I haven't been taking my morning Seroquel dose regularly. I've tried it on weekends - it really makes me dopey and sleepy. On weekdays I can't afford to be dopey. There's work to attend to. And it's been a busy week with the start of semester.
Therapy this week was OK. V wanted to know more about my mental health history. I had to talk about a past I have tried hard to bury, but talking to V is easy. My years in Canada were very dark years. During the worst periods, I'd be hospitalised as often as once every 2-3 months.
I've put a lot of those memories away on the back shelves of my mind. Dredging them all up again was tough in a way, but strangely liberating. As I recounted certain significant events to V, I felt a certain relief. I don't think I've ever been able to share these painful moments of my life with someone who truly understood and did not judge me.
Those years were rough. There were so many moments when I gave up. There were so many times I could have died. How close did I get? Close enough. Close, but not close enough. Such despair. And yet I got past all that. I grew up. I accepted responsibility.... oh, I would be accused of not taking responsibility, but I did. Everything I did, I did it for one more day, and one more day, and today, I am still here. Today, I am a grown up.
Some days I still struggle. I don't know if my fears and anxieties and despair will ever all disappear. I don't know if I will ever be able to be medication free. I like to think I will be. And therein, lies hope.