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.
This is My Lemonade 