Returning Home.

Figuratively speaking. I have focused carefully for twenty years, day in day out. On taking my psycho-tropic medications, countless therapy sessions, practiced self care, exercised, raised a family, went to grad school and started a new career after being on disability for my mental health condition for many years after college. In my young adult hood, I believed my life would never amount to anything due to my dehabilitating diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder. An illness that at times shook me to my core and which I nearly did not recover from. Twice.

What is so fascinating about the brain and the body, is its ability to heal. I have made an amazing support system where I live here in Florida. My friends, I cannot say enough about them. They are there, no questions asked, The girls have even made such beautiful friendships as well. We love this little life we have built here in our little town of Orange Park.

My role at work. I work at a behavioral health facility, working the graveyard shifts on the weekends. It seems to be not ideal. It appears that way on the exterior. For me it works. The nights are quieter, the nights has less presence from leadership and management. The nights are in a sense perfect for me. It took some time to adjust my sleep routine for the night shift. While I admit three months it I have not perfected it and I am not as strict with my time as I should be, I am making progress towards that and getting more aquainted. I am thriving at work and really feel I am making an impact with my role evaluating patients at admission. While the hours are long and intense I am content.

I recently joined the choir at St. Catherine’s. I missed singing at mass, and singing in the choir gives me even more joy. I have returned home. All this time. I have not been able acknowledge, what I am capable of. The simple monotonous consistent schedules, self care routines, quiet prayer, seemingly small moves, long awaited moments are protective factors for my wellness, my mind and body. These factors have kept my mind safe in a way, kept it healthier, less likely from from fragmenting, along of course with the assistance of the medication.

If you are a new reader to my blog, or a friend or a long time reader, I first say that this is only in my own experience, and I am not an expert. I appreciate you all for reading of course and thank you all for following what I have to share today. I want to say that we all have difficult times, and those difficult times can challenge us. They can make us stagnate or they can make us grow. I am not a psychiatrist. I have met and perplexed and vexed plenty of them in my time. I will say that if Dr. Reidler could see me now he might do more than a double take. I know a lot about my illness however as a MSW and personal research, and my ability to function amid personal circumstances demonstrates that it is possible for the brain to heal. For the brain to have stretches of stability and not consistently be stuck in a cycle of episodic moods.

I would recommend for friends and family if you are concerned for someone that has a mental health condition that there are ways to support them. By listening to them. By supporting them. Not by judging them or asking questions. Not by stereotyping. By offering unconditional love. By forgiving, by moving forward. They have to find their true home just like you did.