Cautious Optimism

The O word? Did I really just use the O word? I can’t begin to remember the last time I used – and definitely not felt – optimism for myself in any way. 

But today I met with the Manager/Social Worker, Occupational Therapist and Senior Recovery Worker from my placement for the first time since finding out that I’d gotten a place on the placement, and for the first time alone. And, you know what? I actually came away with the first teeniest glimmer of optimism; maybe together we actually can work on my recovery? It wasn’t easy. In fact it was downright scary. I felt like I was walking into a test that I didn’t know the curriculum for and that I in no way believed myself capable of achieving. I was full of anxiety, I didn’t have answers for many of their questions, I still don’t know how I feel, I was overwhelmed and afraid. But it turned out that my honesty about the breadth/enormity/confusion of my goals and my worries went down well with everyone, and their responses made me feel like all of these things (and especially honesty) are ok and actually encouraged; plus we are starting to build rapport (something bloody difficult with me, so well done them!) and I felt like there’s the potential for important therapeutic relationships to be built and a shared understanding of my problems developed. 

It’s flipping terrifying; it’s still not 100% definite (pending funding panel next week); there are infinite fears to be faced; it will challenge me constantly… But I’m trying to be brave by letting myself feel just a smidgen of cautious optimism. 

Even that’s scary, in itself! My heart is trying to burst out of my chest with the enormity of it all as I type.


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