As a self-diagnosed born pessimist, I am in a constant dialogue with myself to take what I naturally perceive as problems or shortcomings and reframe as opportunities or something else altogether:
No, you are not depressed - you need more sleep.
No, you are not lost - you are in a rebuilding phase of life.
No, you are not a mess - life is messy.
These reframes can be both truthful and helpful.
But in the last few weeks, a “lucky” cluster of symptoms A) forced me to seek medical help (hello, perimenopause. it’s nice to meet you, officially) and B) had me wallowing in such a negative space that I couldn’t talk myself out of. Initially, I felt scared by the darkness but probably because I was there for a while, I felt like eventually my eyes adjusted and I was able to not only be there, scared, but also to trace the precise outlines of my…
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