Count the flowers

I keep trying to get an honest and direct assessment: "This is exactly how bad you are". Sort of like on a scale of 1-10, where is my bipolar? Nobody is going to give me this, of course, and that's probably a good thing.

I have ascertained several things now. One, I'm not as sick as I was a year ago. Good to know, didn't think I was, but hard to be sure sometimes because I remember so little of the first few months. Two, I'm experiencing some of what I maybe "should" have when I was diagnosed. Back then I refused to accept how big some of the loss was. Now I get to do that. There are just things I refused to accept that I should have accepted. It hurt tonight to be told that sometimes people don't fully recover from the kind of episode I had last year. I know it, but I've avoided that kind of thought for so long. Three, I'm feeling sorry for myself. Not sure anyone expects differently right now, I think I'm still allowed for a bit longer, but some of this is my attitude.

So that's my new assignment: counting flowers. We're having a weird, weird year with ugly weather recurring over and over, yet the flowers keep popping through.

This better make me feel better.....