So when does a cautious sense of almost-rightness turn into “feeling okay”?
Good news this week, I guess: I’m up to full dose on the new med, and no freaky or debilitating side effects. And other than having trouble staying asleep, I’m waking feeling okay, i.e. not shaken up and mostly rested. The dreams are still vivid, but far less disturbing. (Though the last one I recounted to my husband — involving a shipwreck, a pool game, and a recovered Civil War rifle to be delivered to safe-keeping to a school for psychics run by a former VP I knew and my painting teacher — had him shaking his head. Pretty involved even for me.)
I’ve started a new painting. I’ve also botched two watercolors, and come to the conclusion my watercolors are a lot more rusty than my oils. So I’m trying not to kick myself too much over it. I’ve seen some good friends last week, and will again this weekend. I’ll see my mom and hopefully my younger sister next week. My husband is happy at his job, though a bit rushed with things before his classes start again Wednesday.
So, what is “normal”? What is “okay”?
I don’t know if this is it. I know I’m still unhappy, self-flagellating or flat more than I’m happy, but is it reasonable for a depressive bipolar person to ever feel more happy than despairing — without being manic?
I guess it’s a case of: Stay tuned, True Believers.
Translunary Things 