… and I probably never will be.
And that’s okay.
One of the things that I’m still coming to terms with is my mental illness being chronic. I’ve talked about how medication helps it go from a boulder to a pebble, but it’s hard coming to grips with the fact that I can’t throw that pebble away. How do I know this? I’ve tried to throw it away before.
Back when I was first diagnosed, I went to therapy and took my medication diligently. Everything felt better, I was thinking more clearly and everything felt good and stable. And then I moved. I couldn’t find a therapist, but it was okay. I still had my techniques from therapy and a good supply of medication, so I’d be good. And then the meds ran out.
Once that happened, everything slowly slid back downhill. I was back in that cycle of up and down, right and wrong, good and bad, no in-between thought pattern and behaviour. Things got continually worse until, after my second pregnancy, I was able to get help again.
Now I’m back in therapy and on medication again and things feel pretty good. This time, however, I’m able to recognize that I’m still not “okay”. I’m better, but I’m not “fine” and I’m definitely not cured. I probably never will be. Bipolar, depression, anxiety, all of it will most likely stick with me for life. That’s just fine. It’s just part of what makes me who I am.