I'm grateful
- for my diagnoses. They were (and are) scary, but they shed some light on some frightening darkness. I have a clue now about what I'm facing.
- for having a way to explain myself to others. Before my diagnoses, I had no defense against encouragement to pretend I was fine or to get over myself. Now, I have terms. I have documentation. I can teach or point others to more information.
- for unexpected support. I decided to make this blog open after I sent a letter to family. I have not had a single unkind or inappropriate response.
- that I can understand some relatives a little more (bipolar disorder runs wild in my family), and see what we share.
- that though our disorders may be different, I am sometimes uniquely able to empathize with Oliver.
- that medication is available to help me, and I have a psychiatrist who is willing to change and tweak my medication to, as he says, stabilize me.
- that I've had two great therapists who somehow seem to bring out the best of my personality. The sessions are really story-based. I tell a story from my life (a trauma, usually, but sometimes something hilarious that happened in between and even during tragic events), and she asks questions that take us somewhere.
- that after a lot of effort, I've gotten assistance, and I don't have to work out in the world. I believe that a job would be dangerous for me.
- that my close family and friends believe me and take me seriously.
- that Mom, Josh, and Bruce have all read books about bipolar disorder to better understand and love me.
- for my new, fledgling spirit of forgiveness for myself. Most of my life, I've done my best.
