Acceptance is Slow

It is silly. Part of me still thinks I can change. If only I try hard enough, I will not be ill anymore. I am doing all the right things: A clear day structure, enough sleep, plenty of yoga, fresh air, healthy food, meaningful conversation, art & music, practicing gratitude...and my dosage of lithium before bed. Unfortunately, each time when I feel good, I foolishly think I have conquered my illness. I ignore the little voice that says: You're a bit hyper right now, you'll be depressed next.

And so I wake up and cry my way through 3 hours of yoga. Half the workshop on the Bhagavad Gita (the part of the Mahabaratha where Lord Krishna explains the merits of yoga to Arjuna just before battle) is also lost on me. I can barely sit, let alone pay attention. I start to hate Swami Sivananda for his cheerful cries of: "So where are we on the battlefield today?!"  I feel numb and cold and I hate myself. I hate myself for my vain hope of believing that I had fought my battle and won.

But this is not my battle to fight. I cannot go against nature. I can only take good care of myself. I am doing so every day. Yet acceptance is slow.