On Thursday, I got some exciting news. The news made me feel. First I felt relieved, then I felt happy, and nervous, and terrified, and jubilant, and all sorts of things. A year ago, this would have been awful and uncomfortable. I would have worried about why I was feeling a certain way, whether it meant my medication was at the wrong level, whether I was headed for unsustainable highs or a crash. I wasn't able to trust any of my own feelings and emotions, and my world was volatile and uncomfortable if not stable and dull.
So as my emotions churned, I also felt gratitude. I was grateful that I could experience the ups and downs of "regular life," as people call it, without fearing that I'm going to head off the edge. I am grateful that I can be bipolar and excited, bipolar and frustrated, bipolar and terrified, bipolar and thrilled, and not always bipolar and worried, bipolar and cautious, bipolar and careful, bipolar and afraid.
You can never recover from this illness; there is currently no cure. I accept that. But as I was walking home that night, I marveled at the crisp San Francisco weather, the buzz of nocturnals entering dimly lit bars, the calm quiet of my blue building on its little side street. I marveled at these things, and at the uncertainty and excitement that my future holds, and I trusted myself. I was not afraid of my feelings. Maybe it's not recovery, but whatever it is, the world was beautiful that night.
So as my emotions churned, I also felt gratitude. I was grateful that I could experience the ups and downs of "regular life," as people call it, without fearing that I'm going to head off the edge. I am grateful that I can be bipolar and excited, bipolar and frustrated, bipolar and terrified, bipolar and thrilled, and not always bipolar and worried, bipolar and cautious, bipolar and careful, bipolar and afraid.
You can never recover from this illness; there is currently no cure. I accept that. But as I was walking home that night, I marveled at the crisp San Francisco weather, the buzz of nocturnals entering dimly lit bars, the calm quiet of my blue building on its little side street. I marveled at these things, and at the uncertainty and excitement that my future holds, and I trusted myself. I was not afraid of my feelings. Maybe it's not recovery, but whatever it is, the world was beautiful that night.
Finding beauty in the world at unexpected and even mundane moments is the best thing ever ... delighted that you were able to allow yourself that pleasure !!
ReplyDelete