The Face of Wellness.

After my diagnosis a few years ago, I felt both enlightened and deeply confused. Part of me said "At last! I understand why I'm different and why so much of life has been so difficult and painful." But the rest of me only had questions:

• At what points in my life have I been sick?
• What does mania look like for me?
• What choices of mine were illness-driven-and for which choices can I forgive myself?

But though I had many questions about illness, I had even more about wellness:

• Am I capable of wellness if I do everything right? And am I capable of doing everything right?
• What does wellness look like for me?
• When have I been well in the past?
• What's me, and what's illness--and to what degree are these the same? Who will I be when I am well?

I know these are difficult questions. But I'm trying to identify symptoms, this time, of wellness.

• Low anxiety about ordinary actions like driving or checking out with a cashier.
• Engaged, happy reading.
• Moderate energy.
• Remembering to take my pills.
• Occasional, special shopping without compulsion.
• No desperate sorrow or exhausting happiness.
• Appropriate crying.
• Connecting with Oliver.
• Fluid thought.
• Fluid story telling.
• Regular writing.
• Smoother handwriting.
• Seeking laughter.

Wild.

I love the word wild. I think that started when I was little-ish and watched a movie or show in which a guy sang "Wild Thing" to a girl. I think being wild must be pretty awesome.

As I've grown up, I've embodied the word in many ways. When I was 16 I was wild with creative energy. I wrote wildly whenever I could. I practically ate books. I think this was one of my first rounds of mania though of course I wouldn't get a diagnosis for over a decade. This was a sparkling mania--a great joy and wild belief in my uniqueness and worth, probably grandiosity. I still think of it as one of the best periods of my life.

I was wild at 17 too, but this mania was like metal, shining but dangerous. I made terrible choices. And after that, I went wild trying to escape my life (and probably myself).

I've been wild about water and swimming. My eye makeup is often wild (a sign I'm feeling well or working toward wellness). I've loved people wildly. Sometimes, my teaching was probably wild, with wild expectations. I feel wild when I see a show that stuns me.

Some wildness is good, and I hope I will keep some of it. It's not just the disease; it's also me.