Bipolar recovery

I feel compelled to write again. It’s been a while and as usual when reasonably level I don’t seem to.  

Here I am again writing a blog post but it’s not because I’m unwell again, although I had a few wobbles for a week when missing medication.  I am level. I am in recovery. It can happen. It has happened and it is happening.  I’ve been level for a couple of months or so now and having psychotherapy is really helping.  I’m able to see further with life again and I’m really doing things, I’m always busy but I’m doing things towards my future. I’m not pressuring myself in fact I’m kind of ‘flowing’ with life and I’m not fighting anymore.  I know I will get unwell again and I’m not fighting that either. I accept it.  I accept that I will get unwell.  I accept that I will scare myself. That I will worry. That I will not know what really is truth or fiction and paranoia. Fighting hard has been a strength and a downfall.  I accept all of it now.  I accept that I have a condition that is amazing and scarily shit at times.  I accept that others cannot feel what I feel.  I’ll not fight so hard, if at all, but yet I’ll never give up or give in.  Recovery is real and possible. Acceptance is a huge key to it.      

So many things are happening for me.  I’m growing a lot more veg this year and market gardening seems to be a natural progression.  If it doesn’t happen then I’ll still keep growing more veg.  I’m starting off with sharing some with family and friends who we rent a field off. If I have excess then I will sell it from a stall outside our house and give some away to other friends too.  I’ve already built a small stand.  My building business is busy, as always, but my mind is in a far better place and I’m pricing work far more sensibly and realistically and am again charging more and not cutting myself down with horrible internal negative chatter.  

 Having come on here tonight I’m touched to see that I now have about 2215 subscribers to this blog. I’m amazed. I started it as a diary. I know some friends occasionally read it and I told a few others but I never thought I would get subscribers.  I figured if by writing what I go through can help maybe one or two others then it would be worth being as brutally honest as I can be.  If you are reading this and have related to what I write, sympathised or it has helped you then you have also helped me. Writing this has given me help. It’s given me hope and it’s also scared the shit out of me when reading back at times.  

Recovery is real, it might not last forever, but it’s real. Take whatever help is offered and ask for more.  Accept all of it and accept all of yourself.  Much love.  

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