Soul Survivor

I awoke this morning feeling calm and serene. It's quite gloomy and cold outside, which normally would bring my mood down quite a bit, but I feel rather optimistic about the day that lies in wait for me. I have my (huge carafe of) coffee brewing and my two Bassets have been watered and fed. I think that this will be a good day for me.

It's Thursday and I have my weekly talk therapy session today. We have been spending a great deal of time over the past three years helping me get over this re-occurring, debilitating fear I have of getting manic again and having to be shipped off to the loony bin. It's frustrating, slow-going, and I talk like a broken record. I keep repeating, "Yes, I know I'm fine now...but..." It's getting rather tiresome. Bless my therapist for putting up with me.

The other key issue we cover is my horribly low self-esteem, something that prevents me from living a happy life, feeling confident, interacting with others, being assertive and setting boundaries. This is something I have battled for most of my life. My therapist does a great job reminding me of all my talents and skills, my wisdom, my intelligence. Sometimes I believe him, sometimes I don't.

What I'm thinking this morning is if I dig deep, deep down into my soul -- maybe go look in a mirror because I can see through the window -- I can find that Melissa who is indeed doing fine, who is functioning well, deserving of praise, someone who will always be a survivor. I've been knocked down hard by this mental illness, but right now I'm standing and walking. I may be deeply embarrassed and ashamed of my bipolar disorder, but it's not something I asked for and I'm getting pills and skills to manage it.

Now, I wouldn't call myself "awesome." That's a little bit of a stretch for me right now. But I feel pretty comfortable with a tag of "survivor." Deep in my soul, I know this is true. And that's pretty uplifting for me to know. So onward with my day I go. One step at a time.