So I'm back for the first time in months again. Its been a hellatious year of medicational fog, but its over, thank god. I really cannot tell you for the life of me what I did for the year other than barely function.

There's good news though. Since I started on a different medication, Celexa, I've been doing much better. I actually laugh and joke around again, which I haven't done much for several years. My sense of humor is returning, and so is my desire to take an active part in life. My therapist asked me the other day if I was okay with referring to myself as a well person now, that the worst was over and that now it was just a matter of re-inserting myself into society and life a little at a time. That felt good to hear.

I feel like I've lost so much time to this illness. I've fought with it for over 15 years, and I fought for my life against it in the past 5. Many of you know that there are no real words to express what the bottom feels like, but sadly many of us here have had that experience. I'm no different in that respect.

I worry though. I worry that I'll start rebuilding my life again and then the illness will hit full force. That fear stays with me always. I haven't learned how to stave it off, to have faith in my own strength and ability to conquer it. Several times a day I find myself thinking about the really horrible times, the times that will never leave my memory, even if I live to be 1000. How do I keep from remembering that, reliving it?

It's bittersweet. I'm healing, but I'm changed. And I wonder how long I'll have this time before the next wave. Will I be strong enough to weather it and keep my rebuilt life in one piece? I can only hope and pray that its the case. I guess in the meantime I'll take it one day at a time. That's all I can do. And enjoy what I can while I'm well enough to enjoy it.

I hope the same for each of you.


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