Tag Archives: hypomania

♪♫ Here come those tears again

(5/31/15) (Completed 1/7/16)(Procrastinate much?)

Here come those tears again … Well, hopefully not too many tears.

See, I’m trying the food and fitness thing again. So far so good, 4 lb, which I suppose is better than nothing (do my clothes fit better? can I breathe better? Neh…)

And of course, being Spring, my thoughts have turned to romance …

***

OK – that is as far as I got back in May, for both this post and for the fitness thing…

And the romance, for that matter.

Now here it is January and I started the fitness thing again back in December.

Now for the waah:

  1. Do I have to do this again??
    Yes, the doctor put me on a diet. And not just a diet. A low carb diet. Dang! Doesn’t he know it doesn’t work, that you are just going to cheat and end up even fatter? Doesn’t he know it is bad for the body? and worst of all, doesn’t he know that this often swings me into hypomania? But (here’s the re-BUT-tal… now I see where that word come from!) I have been doing it for over a month, not perfectly of course, and it is going pretty well. WITH exercise!
  2. I had such a horrible craving for cake last nite!
    What prompted it? Seeing a picture of birthday cake.
    I used to buy a whole cake at the grocery store and almost flaunt it as I plopped it down at the register. I figured if I looked happy they would think I was buying it for a birthday boy or girl.
    So why don’t I just have one piece? Ah, in theory that would be great! Except for that mildly addictive (and that’s putting it mildly) personality of mine.
  3. I was going to do housework but have an overwhelming urge to nap. Which would be fine except …
  4. The maintenance people have a generator going right outside my door, the volume of which overrides the white noise of the fan I would generally have going while I sleep.
  5. I’m still not going to do housework.
    So there. Cuz you know once I start, I will keep going til it’s all done (Remember that “mildly” thing?) I just don’t want to do all that. Even though that sense of pride and accomplishment would be so good. Nope, nuh uh. Not going to.
  6. I have to pee again, dang it!
  7. I’m sure there is a seven because I felt so whiny when I started this post.
  8. But at least I did accomplish something!

♪♫ Hi Anxiety

For the past week, I have been experiencing a feeling of being chased. You know, that heart-in-your-throat, can’t-get-away kind of feeling that is sometimes associated with anxiety.

After that? I started having difficulty abstaining from a number of behaviors that I avoid very easily as a Christian, but not so much as someone whose medications are out of whack. Swearing, impatience, starting and not finishing blog entries … stuff like that. Oh, and barely refraining from throwing one’s phone through one’s television. Fantasizing about imbibing certain anesthetizing fluids and acting out shamelessly. Wanting to jump into my car right after payday, because, after all, I’m totally messing up, so why shouldn’t I? To go cross country and get all the bad behavior over with, because there’s no point trying to restrain myself. That, my dears, is hypomania.

It is the state of mind in which one knows better than to attempt installing one’s printer, if one wants not to destroy it, or to become totally undone. Just yesterday I was trying to synch my “my fitness pal” to my “map my walk,” and between my phone and my computer, I just about imploded. I did have an incredible melt down, the likes of which I have been working toward all week, all month, maybe all year. Honestly! Why can’t the… ok we won’t go there…

So I had a call in to my doctor’s nurse yesterday, and she called me back. Late, I might add. But I had forgotten to turn my ringer on. By the time I realized she had called, she was already leaving a message.

That’s one thing cell phones lack, that regular phones with answering machines don’t. A regular phone could be snatched up mid-message with an awkward “Hello? Hello?” But at least you could catch the person who was calling. With cell phones, you end up playing telephone tag for hours, sometimes days, and most times they call you back when they’re darn good and ready. See? “Darn.” I have a little self control.

But back to the phone call. That was about the time the phone almost lost its life. But of course, when I realized I could not throw it and get away with it, and there wasn’t a punching bag or a human nearby, yeah…  Instead of being angry, I dissolved into tears.

So then I couldn’t immediately call her back. It was pointless to even try. It’s very hard to convey one’s feelings and needs when one is sobbing. Well, on second thought, I could have communicated quite a lot that way, but not what I wanted to. After all, I do have a little self respect.

So today, I believe it was even before I opened my eyes, I was thinking the F word, which then caused me to start crying. Oh, it’s gonna be a fabulous day, I thought. I’m sorry, God, and please help me.

And then I started flagellating myself for saying sorry all the time but not changing anything. Yah. That kind of day.

One verse in the Bible says that out of the heart the mouth speaks. So this whole thing makes me feel like so much less of a Christian. I’m not even telling you about how I was trying not to shake the walls of the apartments on other side of mine with my hollering. Add consideration to self respect. I reeeeally am trying not to lose it.

For those of you who then want to say “Such thoughts, such speech and behavior would not occur to someone who truly knows and loves the Lord.” Well I’m glad it’s like that for you, truly. And maybe I’m not a Christian. Maybe I am just faking it. Putting on a big front. I guess I could use prayer instead of your judgment.

Oh, the joys of hypomania. I would love to take full advantage, and start cleaning my place, and doing whatever else needs doing, but I seem to have bypassed that stage of efficiency entirely, and progressed to the stage of irritability and ineptitude, and the unable-to-do-a-thing-right stage. Ohhhkay, see that run on sentence? Another symptom of hypomania. When it gets real bad, I don’t even use commas.

Anyway, had I not bypassed that efficiency stage, I’d be having this conversation with you in an apartment that was minus the dirty dishes and bags full of laundry. It would be pristine, sparkling. And I’d be a little less unhappy about this whole thing.

So there you have it. This is the quandary of the Christian who has bipolar disorder. Oh yes, the manic aspect and the depressive aspect are equally self-condemning, never mind concerning what other Christians might think. Is it any wonder that we hide ourselves from those Christians who don’t understand?

And yes I am tersely speaking with as much clarity and control as I possibly can. Who wouldn’t when other words want to fly out of one’s fingers?

So pray for me. Pray for proper medication management, and that I cause as little damage to myself and others, and things, as possible. In the meantime, I am fantasizing about being admitted to the hospital. Or of having it suggested to me, and replying with a long string of obscenities.

♪♫ Hi Anxiety …

♪♫ If you wanna be happy for the rest of your life …

Well hullo. Sorry for not being in touch. But I am sharing my almost-everything with my son again, including the computer (sigh). He is trying yet again to find a job and a place to live and maybe a sugar mama (besides me) and and…

But that’s not what this story is about ..

“Juust sit right back and you’ll hear a tale..”

Sorry, this is gonna be one of those “I’ve imbibed one inch of coffee so far” posts.

The point of this story: Rating where you are on the bipolar scale.

My shrink once asked me where I was on the mood scale, between one and ten.

Well, I esplained (Lucy) that a person with bipolar cannot really rate themselves that way.

“How so, Dr. Bailey?” A pet name that he had for me, because I was always correcting him, or telling him how to treat me.

“Well, ya see, Dr. M, we are either really up there, or really down there. Ya can’t say one to ten, as if we are ever normal. Well, maybe for a nano second here and there. But still…”

He nods. Which means, tell me more. His pencil is poised.

It’s like the ocean, I explained. Maybe you’re at a two, where the living is easy. Treading water, but not as if in survival mode. You’re floating like you’re in the Dead Sea, no effort at all; relaxed, even. You’re just beyond competent. Juuust a little. Maybe happy, God forbid! Then maybe a four. You’re sort of walking on water, like Peter in the Bible. Soft, warm waves lapping at your toes, and then euphoria sets in; joy! So this is what normal people feel like! you think to yourself. You chance to dance. You still don’t sink. Definitely a five, six, but who’s counting? What can I do that I’ve been neglecting? You clean the whole house in like an hour. You start hanging out with people you haven’t seen for a while. “We need to have a party or something! Everything is greaaaat!” Your better friends quirk an eyebrow. “Everything okay?

But wait, there’s more! “It’s bigger than that! You’ve got special powers, maybe; uh… ” I look off to the side. Should I tell him this part? His pencil is moving furiously. He’s thinking he wants to lock me up; but he is patient.

Oh, we’re not egotistical enough to think that we’re God. But that euphoria, it gives you this wonderful energy! Prolific energy! The more you do, the more you have to do! And the more you do, the more it gives you fantastic abilities! If you can walk on water then by gor you can read minds. Leap tall buildings. See beyond reality, write a Pulitzerprizewinningnovelinfourminutesflat. And you don’t need mundane things like food, or sleep. Or concern for anyone but your own fine fascinating self or commas get outta my way you inferior human! Wewhoaremanic won’t settle for walking on water. Oh noes. We must fly! Hence, plus 10. Wheee!This is called ex-calating. Be quiet. I can spell it how I want.

Let’s get back to Peter. He didn’t just walk on water. Maybe for a very little while. But he is also known for looking down and realizing, there’s a storm, and by gor, I’m not supposed to be walking on water. He looked down and realized that by rights he should be drowning. Don’t forget, the boat was buffeted by wind so it was nowhere near calm. Have you been there? Things are going along fine, maybe even grand, but then things start to fall apart. We start being overwhelmed by stupid little things. Not even big things! We are not walking on water. On the contrary. Maybe we have even gotten to the stage where we are cowering in the bottom of the boat, eating chocolate covered bonbons while watching Oprah; and not in a fun way. More like in a have-to way. Go out? Exercise? Talk to people?

Fahgettaboudit.

And so, we have the opposite end of the scale. We may even end up on the bottom of the ocean, with all those scary looking fish, right next to Davy’s locker. We want to climb into Davy’s locker.That’s a minus 10, my friends.

For most of us, though, it’s more subtle than looking down while you’re walking on water. Or even while treading water. Think frog in the water, taking a bath, as the water is gradually turned up to boiling. We don’t see it coming.

With any luck, you will see plus 3 (and not want to chase it), or minus 3 (and not want to drown), and you’ll ask for help. A med adjustment here, an extra counseling appointment there, anything to ward off the insidious monster that is bipolar. Staying stable is a daily struggle, and if you ever lose vigilance, you’re dead (or its equivalent).

So, Dr. M. and I developed a new scale, just for moi. (After all, I am vewwy special). Normal is zero. That doesn’t sound right I know but remember, no coffee. And, no concept of normal. My normal? Minus two. And he’d write that in my chart, for real and for true.

Now that I think of it, though, I should have told him there is yet another category. I forgot. That one is wayyy beyond Peter. Way beyond plus five. It’s probably more like plus 100.

That stage is the one where you are in your space suit, and your life line has been cut. Never mind your fascination with looking at the Earth below. Although it is a little fascinating. But your space suit is running out of oxygen and your brain is doing flip-outs. 😦 FLIIIIPPP OUTS!

Yeah.

I have experienced all of those stages. (Not Stooges. Stages. Pay attention).

My normal stage is doing the dog paddle with my nose at the exact surface of the water, with the water entering my nose now and then. Tiring! This is most comfortable, because manic is scary! And drowning puts me right next to those disappearing planes, saying how-de-do to the pilot.

So – where are you today?

And how did I do without my full ration of coffee?