Stability is a fragile thing. It’s a time to rebuild, regain control, and feel a sense of normalcy, but it comes with its own set of challenges. Memories of impulsive decisions made during mania resurface, along with the lingering fatigue from depressive episodes. You try to keep everything in order, clinging to routines and strategies in the hope they’ll keep you grounded. Stability isn’t freedom from the disorder; it’s a constant effort to stay on course, to manage the fear of falling back into extremes.

From the outside, stability might look like healing, as if the hardest part is over. But inside, it feels like walking a tightrope. You’re constantly aware of how fragile this balance is, always on edge about how quickly it can change. Yet even in this uncertainty, there is strength. Stability offers a chance to reflect, to prepare, and to live in the moment. It’s not about erasing the past or fearing the future, but about finding peace with both. About telling yourself that, despite what you’ve done, you still deserve to live. It’s the silent struggle that many won’t see, but it carries an incredible resilience.