Destination: Golden Donut

Today is my significant other, T's, 39th birthday. He is amusing himself by going on a run, almost a half marathon's distance, and he is doing this for fun, as well as for a sense of personal accomplishment.

I have trouble running down the block. In fact, in the category of general personal accomplishment, it's hard at times to take stock, lest I cringe. I am approaching 39 myself, creeping inexorably to the Big 40, where if your life is not together, it certainly *should* be on its merry way.

In other departments, career, education, money, it all seems like I'm developmentally delayed as a result of my bipolar illness, or poor decision making, which is sometimes the same thing.

I ask myself today and every day, when am I going to feel like it's OK to be where I'm at, to have this mental illness and still be a *happy* person? A *good* person? Isn't that what everyone wants?

Maybe just walking a few blocks is more my speed, and that's my personal best for the day. What I can do while T. is scaling Pershing Drive is to don my fluffy white tennis shoes, take a deep breath, step outside, and head to the Golden Donut for a piping hot coffee and an old fashioned. That's my kind of accomplishment!