While I've never really given much thought to it, I think I believe in reincarnation. I have caught myself thinking "next time will be better" in ways that are really aren't applicable. Like "next time I will be more outgoing" when thinking of my young adult years. Really brain? Next time? Those years are gone and not coming back. Or "next time I will join clubs" when thinking about high school. Uh, hello brain, high school was long ago. So sometimes I sit and wonder when this "next time" will take place and will I remember this time. Probably not.
I have heard of how a lot of people with Bipolar Disorder miss the creativity that seems to tag along with the mental illness. Creativity was cool to me but now that I am medicated I can actually focus on something and get it done. I have lots of ideas like I did before medicine but now I have more patience and follow-through.
"Fair is not equal" is a phrase I used at work recently and the full understanding of it rushed into me all at once. I'd heard it long ago to describe the difference between the special needs kids and mainstream kids at the elementary school my sons attended. Just because two people are doing the same thing does not mean they get the same acknowledgement, reward, or punishment: there are other factors. With both my parents gone I see how much I disliked being considered exactly equal to my sisters. We are different, good and bad, and we don't need to do exactly the same for one that we do for another. It is finally ok in my mind to call one and not the other, give gifts to one and not the other, pick up one from the airport and not the other, or even think of one and not the other. And the same is true in reverse: it is ok to receive a gift from one and not the other, a call from one and not the other, a visit from one and not the other.
I have reached the familiar point in the winter season where I start fantasizing about warm weather. Short sleeves. Porch swing. Fire pit. Skirts. Outdoor projects. Smell of freshly cut grass. Flowers blooming. Warm cement on bare feet. Evening breeze through the bedroom window. Sandals.