Just as surviving trauma takes time to heal, the very act of healing has an undefined ending. I thought I was finished with healing when I realized the power I have in me, when I realized just how much I am capable of achieving. Deciding I could do things and writing down that I was capable just wasn’t enough. In the past I have written a lot about my life with bipolar disorder and a recognized disability. I think I am in a large category of people who do not know when we really are better. Last semester my therapist and psychologist agreed that I was over identifying with the manic depressive diagnosis. They were entirely right. The tricky ground on which I walk is that it is possible to achieve and live a healthy life with this disorder. I have written so much about hard things that it is hard to see just how successful I am today and now, how my hard work is paying off, how these capabilities I see in myself, are becoming healthy aspects of my life. I was sick. I wore the bandage much too long. Now, airing it out, the point is not whether or not there is a scar. The message is I need to move on, to find other things that make up my identity.