My Bipolar Does Not Define Me

For so long now, I have been defined by a condition. Going on a decade. Every emotion I feel. Every tear I shed. Every outburst. 'Have you taken your meds today?'

But it is not, I insist, it is not the sum of my parts.

Secretly, I am a hopeless romantic. Dusky green two piece shoulder pads and 90s glam that my gran wore to my uncle's wedding waiting for my own One Day... So very dreamy.

But I am also capable of fury, an inconsolable rage when the moment strikes, a seething and silent rage.

Other days, melancholy strikes and I embrace its mauve intentions.

A wagtail close and curious fills me with glee, and swallows dancing in the currents before a storm a thing of glory.

Peppermint Crisp chocolates transport me back to better times when my beloved Papa was still with us.

Liquorice always reminds me of my nan. She always has a stash hidden in her underwear drawer. And I don't know what I'll do without her one day.

I collect seashells for my little ceramic bowls, and pick wildflowers on my walks for my little vase, but I never take more than nature should bear to spare.

I follow the moon, when I can see her, as she waxes and wanes. Moon mad.

For all I cannot smell all that well, I find myself smitten with fragrance and only feel ready for the day when I have applied my neroli essential oil to the crevice of my neck, my wrists and behind my small earlobes.

I have a wraparound dress in soft peachy orange with blue blossoms that I wear as a a robe and can merrily spend the day in, typing away, unfettered. Blissful. Unhurried.

I am an avid novice gardener. Not all that successfully as yet. But learning. Of bulb. Of soil. Of watering just right.

My favourite tree is the Flamboyant of Mozambican origin. And the first plant I ever truly fell in love with was my potted River Indigo. And another now garnering my affection is Purple Broom, abounding at my nan's retirement village.

Whenever I ask the universe, and my papa, lost and seeking solace, I am always answered in feathers. Some plain, some striking, but always plainly underfoot.

I find nothing more self-indulgent than a day spent reading a deeply engaging and soul altering book (for all I secretly grow green with envy with their gift and wonder if I will ever be anywhere near such greatness.)

I am quite happy with my own company. In fact, often quite oddly so happily so.

I love egg cups almost more than life itself. (In fact I recently acquired a beautifully hand painted pair from Spain from a mate of my nan's and well, smitten I am!)

Nothing deflates me quite as much as a meal I have slaved over for friends that has fallen short of my hopes and aspirations.

I wholeheartedly believe that cats might just be the most majestic creatures on earth.

Art moves me. It inspires me. It empowers me.

In my humble opinion, a quilt makes the home well, a home. And I say this with all the conviction of the world as I sit typing, my nan's quilt covering my bed.

Trawling for goods I desperately need in charity shops - like a woolly jumper in the cold of winter - and finding just the thing... This is my sense of success, a job well done! And immeasurably fun!

I love the sun, boasting its radiant glory, but too, when it rains and pitter patters the day away...

I believe this planet hangs in the balance and to always tread lightly....

And on my better days, I have to, I just have to, believe in magic.

Full Moon by Tao Lengyue