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As a person with mental illness, I know, only too well, the dark shadows of my soul. It is drafty and crowded at the same time, and, in the best of times, there is hope. But in everyone's recovery, there are singular, crystalline moments when there is no one between you and your disease, and the path to recovery seems fragile, discordant, elusive. In those moments, the path to recovery needs to be identified and acted upon.  I knew that path, but there have been times in my life when I wasn't able to walk that way, no matter how much I wanted.

There are good choices and poor ones. If you are like me, some poor choices are distinctly infinite, yet there are others that are blessedly finite. Yet sometimes you are caught, your choices bind you to a reality you sought to escape. Somehow, your best planning only made things worse. Sometimes it reminds me of the television show "Wheel of Fortune", where the prizes are "2 years of intensive psycho therapy" or "incorporate family into recovery plans" (when what you want was to escape the family's constant authority and control), "join an exercise club", or "talk to the friend you trust most in the world". There are also those items on the dial that read "five years of addiction", or "eight years of major depression", or "develop life-threatening and life-long medical conditions" and still, "be the willing while still unwilling recipient of 16 years of spousal abuse".What my spinner lands on I may be ill prepared to act on, even if it seems to be the most innocuous, banal prize on the dial. Other times I may be frozen, unable to move beyond present circumstances even though others looking in from the outside see a relatively easy path I could be taking.

Each action I take has a ripple effect, as everyone already knows, extending far beyond my anticipation and perception. Had I known some of the effects I would have to live with, I may well have committed suicide. There was a time when I seriously thought of suicide as my retirement plan, something I would do when the children were grown and didn't need me any more. It took years to understand what I would be doing to their psyches if I took such an action.  It took more time to understand how corrosive a life I was living - leading to suicide in slow measures.

It has taken so much work to reach my present psychological state. My whole life led to it, both good and bad. Though I would never want to repeat them, the bad times forged in me where I am now. I have learned the gift of gratitude. Each day I seek to live with that attitude. I am in recovery from mental illness, from addiction, from selfish, self-centered behaviors, from not growing up. I have grabbed onto every option available to me to help me get well. I know I have a God who is watching over me.  And I have therapy and a Twelve Step program to re-shape my mind into healthy, service oriented, loving conduct. Thank God!

Each day I look at the things I have to be grateful for. I had not riddled with the complexities of psychosis or schizophrenia.  As long as I continue on the proper medication regime, I will be fine.  Although I have some serious medical conditions that compromise my life, but they will not kill me, or at least as long as I do exactly what I need to do to take care of myself. It could be so much worse. I could be missing limbs, or unable to move by myself, or trapped into needing constant care by others. I don't have a lot of money, and I can only work part-time. My body will not let me work more. But I could be a refugee in a camp with no access to a job. I live in a small apartment but it is cozy, lovingly cared for, attractive, and a comfort to come home to. How many people in this world can't say that?

I have finally come to the place of seeing the glass half full. It was always half empty. What a joy in knowing it will quench my thirst when I need it. The absolute beauty of mental illness is that sometimes, just sometimes, you are given the gift