the final post

When I started this blog, I saw it as an extension of self. I didn't see its end -- but here we are. In my first post, I shared this quote from a past supervisor: "Find your happy; the rest will come. The rest will come." It's not all here yet, but it's begun to appear. 

For two-and-a-half years, this blog has served as a vessel for stories. A ship to take you all on a journey of mine. For that, I'm grateful. But it hasn't all been great.

Now that I'm healthier and happier, I see that perhaps this blog could have been called, "When you give a girl untreated bipolar disorder and a self-medicating substance abuse problem." That's where most of the stories came from -- and they can't anymore.

Yes, I too loved the trips, the planned travels across the state and the spontaneous vacations to Colorado and Las Vegas and Wyoming and South Dakota. I liked learning about relationships, despite the countless heartbreaks (most famously the relationship in which they were seeing someone else the entire time. Perhaps I'll never be over that pain; I know I'm not today). I appreciated the bumps and bruises of unemployment three times in less than three years, because I now more fully appreciate gainful employment when I have it. I laughed at the drunken mistakes and nights out that turned into mornings in, without any sign of sleep. But most of all, I loved getting to know myself.

Today, I'm well-managed on my bipolar medication and with persistent therapy. I just reached 18 months sober on the second of this month. I have two stable jobs that are allowing me to save a bit each paycheck toward moving across the country to chase my future -- destination currently uncertain. I'm applying to MFA in Creative Nonfiction graduate programs. I'm working out by myself and for myself, for the first time ever (it's difficult). I'm in the most joyful, healthy, supportive relationship that I've ever had, and I appreciate it for all it is -- for all he is -- every single day.

And that's this life. It's no longer booking a flight the week of to take off across the country in search of a little bit of love on the Vegas strip. It's no longer racking up credit card debt at the expense of my mental health just for a bit of fun. It's no longer late nights... hello 9:30pm bedtime and 10 hours of sleep nightly. It's no longer the wild youth I once had. Instead, it's grocery trips and movie nights I can't stay awake for. Long walks in nature and short drives to the lake. Good books and even better stories told.

Sure, I've only just turned 24. But those of you who have been around long enough know that my soul has been through more years than that. More trauma, more raising myself to become better, more loss and luck faltered, more trials and tribulations. And yes, this past year was not short of any of it. Alas, it's time to accept the good that has come.

I accept the friends who have stayed as my journey turned away from wild partying toward scrabble nights with brownies. I accept the family who hasn't torn me in any direction but love. I accept the work that serves me and my values, as much as possible. I accept the home that I've made with my partner, the life that we are building together, and the love he offers me without conditions. I accept my mental health treatment. I accept the financial successes I have had, no matter how small. I accept self care and love and learning. I accept the good that has yet to come.

With that, I'll close this chapter, and I'll continue to write my life's book.

Thank you for being here.

photo credit to Price of a Hug