I used to be in really great shape. In high school I ran cross-country and track for two years. I was in the best shape of my life. The summer after I graduated high school, I tore my ACL and had to have knee surgery.

It'll be two years since the surgery this upcoming June, and I didn't run again for the first time until last week. I went from being someone who ran close to 30 miles a week to being someone who eats Chick-fil-A four times a week (without fail) and whose main form of exercise is walking upstairs to her room.

Last week I decided that I want to start making some changes and live a healthier lifestyle, so I've been trying to eat healthier and run at least three times a week. So far, it's been really hard. Don't get me wrong, I missed running and I feel better than I have in a while, but I think the fact that I can't run like I used to has been messing with me. Strangely, running isn't the only area of my life where I feel like this.

I've been walking through recovery for about four years now, and man, it's been anything but perfect. I'm not a recovering alcoholic or a recovering drug addict; my addiction was self-harm. Depression and anxiety had found a way to creep into every aspect of my life, and there are still really bad days.

I still see a counselor, I still have friends who call to check in and hold me accountable, my parents still keep up to date with my mental health. Lately, it's been a little tougher than it has been in a long time, and it's been really discouraging.

I began to think that because I've been walking this road to recovery for so long, I should be farther along. I shouldn't have bad days or panic attacks anymore. I shouldn't feel this lost and this confused. But when I slow down and think for a moment, that's not a realistic way to think about recovery.

The same way my knee had to take time to heal from trauma before I could run again, I need to take the time to heal from mental and emotional trauma, too. It took time for all those things to get to that point, and it's going to take time to break everything down and sift through it.

Running again has taught me that endurance is built up over time. I can't just wake up one day and successfully run a marathon without doing anything to prepare for it. The same goes for my mental health. I'm not going to wake up one day and magically not be depressed or anxious anymore.

I need to learn coping methods, things that work for me and things that don't (coincidentally, running happens to be a coping method that works really well for me). I need to learn to be honest and upfront about what I'm going through. I need to learn to trust someone enough to let them help. I need to remind myself that my struggles don't define me.

It takes time. It won't happen overnight. Recovery needs to happen at a pace you're comfortable with. It takes some longer than others, and that's OK. What matters is that you're trying instead of giving up.

I won't be running a marathon anytime soon, but this week I've run more miles than the week before. All my problems won't be "solved" by the end of this week, but this week I took another step down a sometimes scary road that I know is a step in the right direction.

I'm overcoming the same way I run a mile: just putting one foot in front of the other, and taking it one step at a time.