I am having a bad day. And strangely it has nothing to do with the disease. I am having a normal bad day; bank account looking scary, child forgot book bag, boss on my ass. Such normal sucky things, that I find for the most kind of reassuring. It means that my act, my desire to appear normal may be working.
I know intellectually that people with bi-polar disease have bad days; and the days that are disappointing or stressful don’t have to do with how much medicine I am taking or where on the rainbow scale my feelings are. They are just the products of life. The effects of the causes.
But there is a sort of harmony in what I imagine is the normal. I am not normal; but to have a day that I can share with a sister without worrying about the consequences is unique in…
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