As I write this, Fran is heading out to a gallery opening in Portland, and then to a classical guitar concert. Before she left, she said to me:
i feel so good.. it’s really strange.. my mind is thinking thoughts that are good.. and it’s effortless..
After months, first of depression and then debilitating fatigue, it is still early days, but something does seem to have shifted—or rather, to be shifting.
It is wonderful to see the light in her eyes again. To sense hope again. To witness the transition from darkness into light once more.
We are both aware of the need for vigilance. Bipolar is like that. Any brightness, any momentary joy, each lifting of the curtain, is suspect, and may be the prelude to mania. But as I told Fran today:
You are doing well, and it feels wholesome to me. We will be vigilant. But don’t be scared to have a nice time, to smile, to find ease and enjoyment. These things are your right. You are worthy of them; of goodness, of living life fully.