Recovery can make you or break you. Mentally. You either give up or force yourself moving forward.
3 months ago my only thought was - what if it won't work out. Was that what I needed to understand what means the most in my life? Was it really necessary to make me stand still so I would understand how much I need to move? How I live to move.
Now I wake up with thoughts of me being better. And by better I mean being in one piece.
I wake up, move myself quietly and thank myself for not giving up. Being easy with myself, yet determined to push myself to unknown zones.
I'm choosing of staying and not even staying but moving on.
My body is a stranger to me and every single day I'm trying to get closer again. Trying to be friends again. Getting to know every bone, every place that needs healing and every muscle whose scared to hurt herself.
If I need a quiet place, I will find it. If I need stories and people to take my mind off from it - they are here - thankfully. And If I want to be happy again... then I need to flow again.
I understood myself after I destroyed myself.
And in the process of fixing myself physically, I found myself mentally and found out, what means the most in everyday life.