Patrice will have her kindergarten graduation at homeschool co-op next week. I truly cannot believe it. She is my baby. How can she be knocking on the door of 6 years old? That seems so old, so grown up.
Right now, she still has the pudgy little fingers that wrap around mine. She still makes up words or stumbles upon her own pronunciation of those I say effortlessly.
But I suspect a lot of that will fall away this summer as we get closer to that big 6 birthday.
And I am sad.
I am also sad that it has taken until this month–April–to get to a point where my Bipolar seems to be under control. It seems the meds might finally be right, though tweaking is still being done, I like the therapist I am working with, I am finally getting stronger. I still feel fragile and I am scared every day that things will get bad again, but so far, I am holding my own.
It has taken 5 years. Five years it has been since we brought home baby Patrice and my personal descent into hell began, and a myriad of struggles for my family also commenced.
Thankfully I feel like I remember those 5 years, they are not blanked out; unfortunately, they are muddied with the depression, mania, anxiety, and medication side effects. There is a veil, a haze, I can never un-remember. Five years it has been.
I am thankful for the time now of clarity and “stability”, I am, but I am sad about the last five years. There is no cleaning them up, they will always be muddy, but they are mine and my family, part of the fabric of our 5 years .
Survive til you Thrive!
