When you’re used to everything being negative or plain too much it’s a really weird experience to escape it. The dream fulfilled never feels quite as sweet as how you imagined it, does it now?
Getting better is hard.
First, it gets worse, as you realise everything that’s wrong with you, everything that’s causing it, and everything you have to change. Sometimes knowing why things fuck you up and why you display fucked up behaviour in return is worse than what’s actually wrong. At least, that’s my experience. Out of your comfort zone and uncomfortably aware of what’s still wrong you might find you feel like you can’t play your own part in the play anymore. People have expectations of you which you don’t meet anymore and you might have dropped ancient habits or hobbies. It’s terrifying and freeing to cut out the external factors.
Secondly, you make progress, you feel happier. It’s not constant, but more and easier than you ever expected at your lowest. You’ve run into things you wish you could delete from your life but you still depend on them. You confront them by playing the same old dance, but not getting as affected by it. Still, there’s this empty. You have more energy and time, where do you leave it? There is so much since you need less to do the same things and stopped doing some. Hobbies? They’re just not the same, you used them as distractions and coping mechanisms and it’s sorta tainted. Only some specific prospects in your hobbies such as the release of a new game even get you to engage anymore. So much boredom. It’s a dangerous thing when being alone in your head isn’t completely safe yet.
I haven’t gotten to thirdly or lastly yet. I was heading there when my aunt got worse and passed away. Grief’s pretty good at setting you back. I’m lucky to, through it, have found a secure future which even includes someone I love. I’m still healing, not through love like shitty romcom movies pretend, but it certainly helps to have a stable loving environment 90% of the time (compared to like 1 maybe 2% at my lowest).