There was a time, at the beginning of all this, that I don’t think I even believed in the word thrive anymore. Because, you see, I had lived a wonderfully successful life – good jobs, good friends, hot dates, world travel. I was confident in who I was and I knew the only direction I was going was up.
But then bipolar came a-knocking and all those things I knew about myself, well, they changed. I couldn’t hold down a job, some friends distanced themselves, I wasn’t confident enough to date because I was ashamed of my illness.
It changed me.
It took nearly a year before I dated again, a year before I lived on my own again, three years before I took a part-time job. I’ve strengthened friendships and created new ones. Most importantly, I accepted my illness.
I am not the super successful chick I used to be and that is okay. I am okay with who I am today and I want to be the best version of this self I can be. Like panning for gold, I try to find the shiny nuggets of this life I have been given, because they are there, I just have to look for them.
As you know from reading my other blog posts, my life isn’t perfect. I have bad days. I cycle through moods. But I also have good days and it is for them that I am thankful. I work hard at my wellness. I take my medication, I get enough sleep, I go to therapy – I do what I’ve got to do. I didn’t ask to be sick, but I am done mourning my old life. So when I say I thrive, I mean that I make the most of this life.