I feel alive.
I feel empowered.
I feel like things are possible.
I feel like the life I lead is not easily captured in a five second introduction.
I went out today.
I listened to music, and poetry, and rapping, and, people being vulnerable, above all, a supportive community and I was swept up in the love, freedom, joy of it.
I danced. DANCED. For the first time in months.
I sang in my car on the way home. For the first time in months.
I mingled, and the first words out of my mouth were not my diagnosis.
I felt, really felt, like there could be more to life than dullness and recovery and me sitting on a couch watching Netflix.
I needed this, as much as I need lamictal and sleep and oxygen.
Not to diminish Eric, but there has developed a sort of patient-caregiver dynamic between the two of us. And, I know he means well, but I need to break free of that patient role. To be, for a few hours, not remotely my illness, but a person, adrift in a sea of other people, anonymous and spontaneous.
To be a human with possibility and the ability to achieve her goals, and to have no one, not least herself, tell her no.