What if one day everything in life was so good that there was nothing left to write about? The pain and constant aching subsided for so long that what once felt unattainable, was actually real life. What if the constant barrage of thoughts swirling around in your mind just slowed down to such a pace that you could see each thought, acknowledge it, and bless it. Send it on its way to a land where worries appear to be grains of sand. Those boulders of fear had somehow become a beautiful white sand beach. What if you made a list of your fears, and then actively worked at smashing them. What would happen to the art of writing when you are at peace with yourself?
That’s where I am at.
It’s hard to write about the present, without the fuel to the fire. My fire has changed and that’s a clear sign of my growth. I am no longer fighting for my life. I set goals. I am working on being the best version of myself. Sometimes I wonder if these grand feelings of happiness inside are me, or if they are a product of being a person with bipolar. I don’t live in fear of happiness anymore though. Before I was adjusted to this happiness I would fight it. I would fear happiness because I just assumed me being happy meant that I was having a manic episode. That if something great happened to me it would send me into mania, and I would eventually crash. Everything is so balanced right now in my life – that I no longer fear happiness. I no longer fear being present and enjoying the great things that are happening in my life. I am able to participate in life more than I ever have before.
I am working on the best version of myself.
Becoming Brave 