Chapter ThirteenWaiting for ECT was interminable. I wrote down information I wanted to remember and taped it to my wall. Things like where to look for my money, and details about my visits with Jeff and Jeremiah. The only thing I knew my last ECT had fixed was my crying problem. I still cried some, but not nearly as much as I did before. I wondered if another round would be the last puzzle piece needed to put me back together.
Besides getting to know the other patients and working on my story, I continued to attend almost every class I was scheduled for. I finally learned one thing that really seemed useful: radical acceptance, the act of accepting things that may not be able to be changed. For me, it was like a light bulb turned on. Accepting my bipolar, and the life I now had, was somet
