Feelin’ Groovy

You know you’re doing well when you’re sitting in your psychiatrist’s office and all the two of you do is BS for the entire 50 minutes.

While he did find something to nag me about—he always does—the need for a colonoscopy is not imminent, and for the rest of the time we told each other funny stories and generally enjoyed each other’s company.

This is a far cry from where we were just a few months ago. Back then there was no lighthearted banter as I was locked in a life-or-death struggle with my disease; only the passage of time and the reassessment of the circumstances have made me realize how very close I came to ending it all. And only the fear of eternal separation from God and the love of my husband kept me here…..and even that almost wasn’t enough.

But now the tide has turned and life, while not thrilling, has become kinder. It doesn’t hurt that the weather has been gorgeous lately; I feel light and breezy, like I do in the early summer, only without the manic component. Suddenly it’s easy to overlook the sins of the guy who just cut me off in traffic, or to be extra nice to the harassed checkout girl at Safeway. What’s more, I no longer feel so guilty over losing the house and the lifestyle we once enjoyed. It happened, it’s over, there’s no going back…..and it’s OK.

In fact, things are so OK that I won’t see Dr. Awesomesauce until May. It’ll be the longest time I’ve gone without seeing him in the three years he’s been my doctor, but it’s time to let the leash out a little bit and we both know it. It’s nice to not need him so much now, even though he ranks second only to Will on my candidate-for-sainthood list. Maybe he’ll finally forget about that stupid toucan shirt in the meantime…..and then again, maybe not.

It’s all good. 🙂

Published by bpnurse

I'm a retired registered nurse and writer who also happens to be street-rat crazy, if the DSM-IV.....oops, 5---is to be believed. I was diagnosed with bipolar I disorder at the age of 55, and am still sorting through the ashes of the flaming garbage pile that my life had become. Here, I'll share the lumps and bumps of a late-life journey toward sanity.... along with some rants, gripes, sour grapes and good old-fashioned whining from time to time. It's not easy being bipolar in a unipolar world; let's figure it out together.

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