I’m home. And more than ever, I miss B.C. This trip was so good, so therapeutic. It was wonderful to see so many people. No one would let me treat them out to eat! I got a ton of free meals! The way to my heart is definitely through my ever-expanding stomach.
Everyone bought books. Everyone is so excited about this journey I’m on and it’s so gratifying. Everyone also has me moved to Italy already even though I keep telling them that it’s a process. Yet, I’m encouraged by their positive responses. Makes me feel good.
And I noticed something–I took almost no meds for my bipolar disorder. I wonder what that means? If I move to Italy, will it be the same? An interesting thought.
I got to have some wonderful talks with some special people. As usual, I was searching for answers, searching for information. I never seem to have enough. Always more questions crop up and I continue to seek.
But I’m progressing. I was told that I’m still grieving and that I will never be over my father’s death. I have to admit that is probably true. I want to be strong, I want to move on, but we were inextricably tied together. If I were over his death, why would I still be searching? Will this search hinder me the way the years of striving for acceptance did?
I have to admit that I’m anxious more than ever for my job to end to start my new journey. That’s one thing this trip did for me.