WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 11, 2015

I am still here, folks. Life is good. I was laid off, but actually, I think it was some form of divine intervention.  That job, my Rock of Gibraltor, served its purpose.  The university, the environment, the people, the work I did -- were agents of healing and strengthening.

I honestly think, that all that circuity in my brain that got fried through life's emotional trauma, was restored and rewired.  Yeah, I'm still bipolar. I know, I can feel it when I miss even a morning of medication. I'm not stupid enough to declare myself "all better now." 

It's the acceptance, the so-fucking-what, the knowing when to tell, when not to tell; when to retreat that I think I've become pretty good at.

I'm in a healthy, supportive relationship.  More about that later.

That little boy is now a teenager, taller than me wearing size 12 shoes.  And he knows that his mother his bipolar.  And we still laugh, and smile, and hug each other.  And he says, "You're still a great mother, Mom."

A good note to end on for today.  Time to go get him.

Yours truly,

Polarimbi