…then bad days don’t matter so much. Since I’ve been here, I have had two “down” evenings and though this may sound odd, they have proved to me that I am OK. I felt down, yes, but it didn’t last, it wasn’t dramatic, I didn’t want to hurt or run back to London or even cry. They were “everyone has bad days” days, “you’ll be fine in the morning” days. Because of all that’s gone before, I never take it for granted that I will be fine in the morning. I never take my happiness for granted, and maybe that’s one of the positives of having experienced mental illness. The highs in bipolar can be great sometimes but this, feeling just fine and happy with my life, is something I wouldn’t trade for grand ideas and elaborate plans. I just love it.