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Year Four, Day 195: Diagnosis

I apologize for my absence.  No excuse, really. Just busy with life.  Trying to stay afloat.  Will there ever be a point in my life where I am not merely treading water?

I told my therapist this week that I have one really good day a month.  The rest of the days are peaks and valleys: Down to the bottom of the abyss and clawing my way back up. 

The one good day is refreshing. I feel truly free. I can breathe and experience the moment.

We all have our struggles in life, don't we? I have been following the twitter war of the Carters since yesterday. I was struck with how many celebrities are diagnoses with mental illness, succumb to drug addiction. Some sadly commit suicide.

Obviously, money can't buy happiness.

After I told my therapist about my one good day, he asked me what brings me joy.  I was stumped. I told him, of course my family, especially my granddaughter. And when I am in the midst of music - performing, practicing, or teaching, I rise above the abyss.  And I read to escape.

But I have removed my addiction: Food. I no longer eat for entertainment and comfort.  I am proud to say I am still intermittently fasting. I have widened my window because I am now eating more healthy during my eating time.  Focusing on whole grains, legumes, raw veggies and a bit of fruit.  I am mostly gluten free. But I have the occasional piece of dark rye, sourdough or pumpernickel  bread. I'm maintaining a 13 pound weight loss. I am hooping most days. And trying to get to the gym more often.

I asked my therapist if joy was necessary.  He looked at me oddly.  We talked a bit. I really look forward to my sessions with him.

Near the end of our time together, he asked if I would like to know my diagnosis. I told him I would. I have been thinking about this a lot. Having a diagnosis would take away some stress. Half of which, is the not knowing.

But still, my pulse started to race.

"Bipolar", he said.  He waited for my reaction.

I exhaled. "That is pretty much what I expected.  But I have never been officially diagnosed".

He told me many people have success with medications. I told him I had tried antidepressants several times, and was not comfortable with them.  But apparently there are meds specific to bipolar. And my case is not extremely severe, especially on the manic side.

Yup, I am indeed an Eeyore!

I told him I would consider meds. I told him I kept a blog. He nodded. I think it will help to keep talking about this.  I have been reading a lot about people with bipolar. Many very creative, musical and otherwise have been afflicted. 

It occurred to me that knowing for sure what my syndrome is, may give me freedom to do what I love: Be more creative, especially musically. Hopefully now that I am in treatment and know what my affliction is, I can stop dwelling on the "what is wrong with me" and get back to living life!

Sounds good, right?

On that note, I need to head out. I have an appointment with my pulmonary nurse. My asthma symptoms have been practically nonexistent since my last appointment. Hopefully my mental health will improve so much!

I also need to check out this book on hold. It is a novel recommended by my therapist:  The Plague, by Albert Camus, labelled "an existentialist classic". Sounds like my type of book!

Talk to you soon. Actually I need to get back to my daily blogging, so let's say: "Talk to you tomorrow!"

Love,


Zita




 Today's hooping video: Day 145!





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