Strong, but immobile.

Staying in the fort isn’t a route to growth once the danger has passed. I increasingly feel that’s where I am, but not where I want to be.

For nearly a decade, since approaching my mid-thirties, I’ve faced significant emotional difficulty. Nearly six years ago I had a mental breakdown and thereafter my recovery has been patchy and protracted. Even today, feeling much better and functioning very well on the surface, I recognise a battle within myself.

It’s an odd struggle, it seems to me. A decade of anti-depressant use leaves me facing SSRI-induced behavioural indifference. That’s another way of saying I haven’t the motivation that I’d like. Of course that factors in to my earlier post about idealising less and doing more. I’m no longer in the dark mental health space that I was and it feels time to push on, spread my wings, charge at my dreams, [insert cliche here]…

Since the thinking and planning isn’t translating into action, the fort analogy seems pertinent. I’m going to get myself off medication and get back my motivation. Being safe behind the walls isn’t really journeying, although it is where I needed to be. I’ll forsake the strength of being still, for the adventure of moving at speed again.

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