I'm happy

I had a crappy couple of days. But that’s all it was, a crappy couple of days. It didn’t develop into anything more. After one of the bad days I felt I needed to talk, so I drove to my husband at work to talk (already a good sign. I didn’t go home to hide away or kick the wall). When I was talking to him I started crying. He talked to me and I calmed down. Then he told me this was just a bad day, and I was handling it like anyone would. I felt upset, I cried, I talked to someone. And he said I was far from an episode. My head was clear. I knew what I was saying and I was responding the right way. I remember all the details of that day (whereas in an episode I often forget a lot). Also in an episode I have trouble finding things that make me feel better and give me a little push. I found things that helped. Working help. Studying helped. Playing with my daughters helped. Listening to music helped. God, I can’t remember the last time I listened to music to make myself feel better. See, I get to a place where I just give up trying to help myself. I didn’t get to that place.

Why am I doing so well? I know the answer to that. My latest hospital stay didn’t do anything to help me. I’m not currently in therapy. It’s simply the new medication I’m on. I know there are people out there who wouldn’t like this. And I understand that. I should be able to find ways to cope, not rely on a pill. But you know what? It’s that pill that is allowing me to function. By taking that I’m in a place where it is possible to work on the problems I face. I don’t feel bad in the slightest. It’s helping me. For so long I wanted to find something that helped. Something that gives me that little push. Something that allowed me to function the way I should be able to. I am thinking so clearly. And even though I know this isn’t the case, and it may sound a little cheesy, I feel like everything around me is more colorful, brighter. It’s not like I’m looking through a dirty, foggy glass.

Another thing that gives me a push. I recently spent a couple hours talking to someone who was having a very tough time. And although I don’t like that they struggle, and I worry a lot about this person, I liked knowing that I was able to help in some way. In those couple of crappy days I was reminded of what I wanted to do, and it gave me a drive to keep going. Being able to help someone when they feel they are in a place where nothing can help, I want to be in a position where I can help. Even if it’s just enough to get the person home and to sleep.

So getting down to it; I’m happy. I’m motivated. I’m not emotionally exhausted. I’ve been thinking clearly for the last… 46 days. And no, I’m not keeping track of each day. Once in a while I do like to count. It makes me feel good.