The day after my office was told I was resigning to take care of my mental health I woke up, laid in bed for an hour after my alarm went off, showered, made breakfast, and got all dressed and done up for the day. This was weird. Why? Because not only was I hungry for breakfast and not nauseous at the thought of food, I actually took the time to make my used-to-be-usual avocado toast (insert millennial joke here) instead of picking up a muffin on the way to the office.
While I understood that for some people completing little tasks like showering or brushing your teeth were big deals, I didn't realize what significance these things held until I stopped having the energy to do them myself.
Realizing how long it had been since I'd made myself breakfast, I almost started crying over said avocado toast. Things like showering and making breakfast (neither of which I had done the day before) are apparently "normal" things that you start doing on your own in middle school. And not doing them just makes you feel that much more abnormal.
That morning I realized how important it was for me to be proud of every little thing that I do each day, and not be disappointed when I don't do something the next. When you have depression, getting out of bed is really hard. Why aren't I more proud of myself for doing that more often? When I go to dance class and sweat out my anxiety instead of gnawing off my fingernails while rocking back and forth on the couch, why don't I celebrate that?
Life is friggin hard on its own. Then throw mental illness into the mix. Each little healthy thing I do is a real accomplishment, and I need to celebrate it more often.