Originally published on dinoclaire (27 July 2016).
Edited for My Trending Stories on (7 October 2016)

Does that statement even make sense? Perhaps not. Then again, a lot of things in life don’t make sense. But the title pretty much summarises what this post is going to be about.

I am going through a relapse. In late 2015, anxiety plunged. Anxiety left me very drained, and I was tired all the time. I realised that, for my own good, I had to cut some people out of my life because, in the long run, they would be causing a lot of damage. A few months ago, depression started going down, too. I stopped talking to a lot of people, and I rarely leave the house without my boyfriend (who went through a 12-week course about caregiving for loved ones with mental health issues) or family. My psychiatrist recommended transcranial magnetic stimulation because I haven’t been responding well to medication and psychotherapy.

At the same time, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. The light at the end of the tunnel sometimes can’t be seen (if there’s even an end to this metaphorical tunnel of doom). It’s demoralising and it makes my resolve waver. But I have something I never had before. I’m not sure what it is. Insight? Reason? I don’t know. What I do know, is that I see how I am loved; I understand the lengths that those who love me would go through just to care for me; I’ve learned to tell who would make a genuine effort to be there with me, rather than for me. Most importantly, I no longer feel lonely.

I have always known that I was not alone, but I felt absolutely lonely. The sense of loneliness that haunted me for years started going away as I realised that what was missing wasn’t just people who were there to listen to me and make me laugh, only for me to go back to a state of anguish after the laughter had ceased. What was missing was somebody to hold my hand, walk with me, and push me forwards even if it upset me tremendously, because it’s for my own good.

What was missing was somebody to show me that I don’t need a full recovery to be happy. Recovery is not the same as cure - you don’t have to be cured to recover.

So, I am going through my worst and longest relapse, but I am the happiest I have ever been.

Published by Claire Leong