Dear Reader,
We're now in the final week of Moura, the fifth season and thirteenth month of the liturgical calendar of Filianism and Déanism. Despite my best efforts to have all of the major cleaning done by now, my home is a mess again. I've been struggling with depression over the last two weeks. As much as I hope that with the coming of Eastre/Ostara, I will feel better, I suspect that my brain chemistry will remain malfunctioning at that time. A persistent sense of anxiety that I am not doing enough to be worthy of my family's love and that I am, ultimately, a failure.
I read the holy texts and contemplate them daily. Intellectually, I know that there is still hope. I feel, however, deep despair and grief. I know this is my neural-chemistry being awry and that it shall pass. It does not change the trouble in my heart and the pain that it brings me. I struggle with the fact that I am disabled. I remember life before bipolar happened and having the energy to get through a light day of activity with out needing a few days to recover. I am grief-sick over it. I grieve not my youth but my health. I have come to a place where I am safe and appreciated for who and what I am. I am profoundly thankful for this. It is an entirely different life for me than what I had in my youth. But, I grieve the fact that I haven't the health that I did before.
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