Stability ain't what it's cracked up to be

I have been stable about 95% of the time for the past several weeks.  That means I generally know that my mood will be close to the mood the day before.  Although I still have mood swings, they now look like little waves.  What does this mean?

I'm productive.  I can organize and stay on task.  I can work.  It is highly unlikely I will fall apart in public (but never say never).  I can make social engagements and know that I will be able to go.  I don't spend any time on the floor and very little crying in bed.  There are days in a row where I don't cry.  There are stretches of time where I don't ruminate (but never a whole day.)  I can function like a normal member of society.

These are better.  Generally, these are good things.

But stable doesn't mean happy.  It hasn't brought joy back into my life.  My life still feels empty and meaningless.  I still don't understand why this happened to me.  I am still upset, scared, angry, sad.  But really, I miss joy.  I miss giddy.  I miss frivolous.  I miss a good belly laugh.  I miss bliss.

I had one very tiny interaction with joy recently.  Notable because it is the only one I can remember for months and months and months.  I was with my youngest daughter.  She, admittedly, is rather charming and has a real zest for life.  We were in the kitchen and had spent most of the day together (older daughter off doing older daughter things with friends).  She was on a chair and I - for no reason and totally spontaneously - picked her up and swung her around.  And she laughed that good belly laugh.  Joy peeked up at me a tiny bit.  Then everything snapped back to normal. 

Sigh.

I don't know how long it will take to come back.  I worry never. 

But I can function.