Get all the insanity over with..

What's that supposed to mean, Heather?

Well, some days I wake up crazy. I don't like it. Generally, I've had horrible, vivid dreams all the night before. I didn't sleep well, and when I get up I'm exhausted and revved up at the same time.

I can't trust my thoughts.. I have to examine them and decide if it's "me" or illness talking. For instance, a few days ago, I was feeling very irritable. Someone smiled at me and I wanted to yell at her. That's not "me". "Heather" is a naturally outgoing, cheerful, loving person. I chat with complete strangers all the time. I love to interact. So, wanting to isolate myself and feeling hostile - that's the illness.

I do it automatically now. Now that I know I have an illness, it's easier to explain the strange thoughts I have at times.

If I feel "unusual energy" then I know I'm manic. Ha. I put my music on random play... "Control" came up. How true... I wish I did have control.

This isn't meant to be a whining, self-pitying post. Not at all. I really find it very helpful to get all this out on screen, and hope that maybe someone reading it will understand a bipolar friend, relative, or themselves better. Maybe they'll look at me going on about hallucinations and say "Wow, I thought I had it bad!", and walk away feeling better about their own problems.

I've had a nasty mixed episode for a while, over a week. Ron comments, every morning "You seem 'up'". When I catch myself wanting to snarl at him - gotta examine those responses before I let them out, I know he's right.

When, at night, everything seems vaguely hopeless and I don't want to do things I enjoy, when the dishes pile up and a shower seems harder than running a marathon, I know I'm down. Because they occur on the same day, I know I'm mixed.

Tonight I thought I'll take a bath, be kind to myself. Hopefully I can get the insanity over with before our family reunion cruise. Eventually, the joy of manic-depression, I always go back to normal sooner or later. If I have to be "whack" this month, to be OK next, I accept it. I don't like it. I don't enjoy it. But I accept it; what else can I do?

Janet sings "I'm in control!"

I'm NOT in control of my illness, the best I can hope is to manage it so it affects others as little as possible. I don't want anyone but me to suffer.

For instance, Tuesday I got miserably toxic. I felt like I was coming down with the flu, just absolutely weary and sick. My muscles twiched. I dropped things, and was very clumsy. I had to reduce my dosage or risk getting in trouble.

Ron hates to see me ill. He got upset. I told him, I'm the only one suffering right now. You aren't afraid of me. You're not screaming back at me. You're not planning to move out and divorce me. You can depend on me when I'm like this... it's the price I pay to be Heather.

Ron says it's not fair. I shouldn't have to choose between being physically ill or mentally ill. I tell him, well, this is my life. That's the choice I've got. I went 32 years without a treatment, afraid of my own mind. Now I can depend on myself. I was prepared to accept horrible side effects in exchange for "sanity".

People at work seek out my company. Drivers enjoy chatting with me. Ron feels comfortable with me at any given moment. My family accept my phone calls. That's important, it's very important... my sacrifices only impact me.

So, I'll take my bath and force myself to do fun things tonight. I'll be as kind to myself as possible and give myself permission to put off laundry until tomorrow. Eventually, the wierdness will pass. I won't have nightmares about being shot. I'll fall asleep easily. My mood will be consistent throughout the same day.

Even on a bad day, things are so much better than they were. I never allow myself to forget that.