Calm Joy.

I think this is a good name for what I want to reach. I want joy like blowing a dandelion wish rather than like a bubble machine or disco ball. If I have calm joy, I don't think I can be ill. Mania is never calm, and depression is never joyful.

I like the joy that, at a thought, makes me smile involuntarily. My face seems to change.

When I'm calm, I feel as I do with a few people who put me at ease immediately. Calm is like a big comfy bed that gives joy a chance to be still and whisper gratitude into the pillow.

Some people walk with such grace; I wonder if that comes from calm joy.

Radiate Joy.

These words were inside a decorative box Mom gave me for Christmas. I wonder if I've ever radiated joy. Maybe during a show. Or at a concert. Definitely when I held Oliver for the first time. Maybe on certain moments of Josh and my wedding day. Giving my mom a Madame Alexander Sleeping Beauty doll. Maybe just a little in front of Valentine's Day displays.

I'm probably more likely to radiate anything when I'm manic. Everything starts boiling over. But early mania, or hypomania, flood me with awareness--heightened everything. It can be thrilling or torturous.

But when I'm well? I can smile. I can keep my head up and make eye contact. I can use the moderate light in me to write, read, love. When I do that, it is visible. It burns just enough.

My Best Reasons for Joy.

• Oliver is alive despite our terrible birth experience.
• I'm alive.
• My mother and I are close friends.
• My husband is kind, gentle, and patient with me. 
• He also seems genuinely to adore me.
• I got some good step parents.
• I have most of what I want, abstractly and concretely.
• I have a wonderful friend who is sensitive to my needs and challenges and who makes me feel good about myself.
• I have family friends who encourage me and my writing. They treat it as more than a hobby.
• Books! They exist, and I have access to them. 
• Easy access to clean water, especially since lithium makes me so thirsty.
• Easy access to movies ($3 on Amazon)
• A good ten years' worth (or more) of paper and pens.

Unrestrained Delight.

This phrase is from something by Janis Owens. Wow. This is not something I experience often.

When I was going through a manic obsession with swimming, I seemed to fall in love with water. I sometimes swam twice a day. I loved colls showers, and I put water on my wrists and arms when I was overwhelmed. When I couldn't sleep, Josh was drag a wet washcloth over my back. It was a frenzy. Of course, lithium was also making me insanely thirsty. So water was magical all around. I needed to be in it, and I needed to fill myself with it.

I've had other manic delights, such as buying work clothes. I hunted for absurd deals online. I waited for the packages. The guilt was not enough to fight the delight.

But unrestrained delight doesn't come only from illness. I often feel great delight as a show begins--the house lights go down, the orchestra tunes up. Usually, I have no idea what I'm getting into. But often, the delight continues through the show. I used to have unrestrained delight just over showtunes and programs full of bright photos.

I feel unrestrained delight some time in a bookstore, paper-rich gift shops, unexpected favorites like fairies and Disney princesses--so much to see and ponder.

I usually feel joy when I start a new journal or new book. So much possibility is there. I feel that delight when I open a gift--who chose this? Why? What wonder can I do with this and the love in it?