“Oh Mister Sun, Sun, Mister Golden Sun, please shine down on me!”
I have no idea who wrote that song, but I do know Raffi sings it because we listen to it with regularity here in our home. In the past I couldn’t deal most days with Raffi. (My mother was a preschool teacher and sang his songs when she was “off duty”.) He was too darn happy. And being regularly low on serotonin and dopamine will make one adverse to happiness. But now that I have a kiddo running around, Raffi it is. I’ve grown to like most of what he sings. Mostly. Everything in moderation, right?
But finally. SUN! It’s been over a week. It’s as if I’m being pulled out of my false self back into my real self. And that’s a pretty big statement. Because over the course of my lifetime, I’ve either not known my real self, or ignored my true self, all due to the mood fluctuations of Bipolar.
As Tony says to Charlie in So I Married an Axe Murderer — “Two words: Therapy.” I can’t speak highly enough about working with a good therapist. They really will help you to discover, or rediscover, who you truly are amidst all the lost pathways of Bipolar. Even my visit today reinforced some things that I cast aside these past two weeks in the thick of a depressive episode. No matter what, no matter how depressed, find the courage to keep going to your appointments. Your therapist is there to help keep you on track.
Keep up the good work, folks. Take excellent care of yourself. Remember your worth.
Note: The sky is courtesy of blessed mother nature, the hat is courtesy of Pistil. One small present to myself, the first in over six months, (YAY!), to prep for summertime.
The Bipolar Spirit 