Acceptance? Or Aspiring to Wellness?

There’s a dialectic between acceptance of my illness and my aspiration to wellness that frequents mental health memoirs and I’m wondering today when it was that I realized that sometimes wellness is acceptance. I feel like my mental illness is like a bicycle that was chained to a tree and the tree grew over it, encompassing most of it. I have absorbed it and yet still I thrive. Yes, the wound still weeps here and there, but then the bark extends and I am stronger for it.

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