An Interruption To Our Previously Scheduled Programming

Up, up and away!

Well hello there all. As you can see, I have not posted in quite awhile. Here I had promised to delve into some quite meaty tales about life in the loony bin and suddenly I stopped, leaving folks hanging. This seems to happen quite a bit when I try to relay information about my mental illness. I get writer's block, things get painful, I get upset. I just freeze up and can't go onward. My deepest apologies.

It has always been my dream to write a book about having bipolar disorder. I know I can write well, I know I am gifted with words, and I used to write prolifically before I first got sick and diagnosed in 2002. But things have changed and my thoughts get muddled -- plus I get bogged down in confusion and fear and embarrassment. Out the window goes my dream and I am left with overwhelming sadness. Yet I do tell myself I must never give up trying.

But my writer's block as it pertains to my mental illness discussion has been lifted today. Suddenly here I am, filled with ideas and the words are flowing out. Now, this may not be a cause for celebration. What's happening is Spring has come to our little corner of the world, and up, up, up goes my mood. I awoke at 3:00 a.m. this morning filled with ideas about things to do and say. Who cares what time it is, I think. I must get all of this out now before the window slams shut!

But wait.

Here's the pattern we have learned so well: I call this "mood escalation." Up, up and away in my beautiful, my beautiful balloon. The experts call it hypomania. Over-energized, obsessive in my thinking, perhaps thinking about spending lots of money, or having wild sex. It is one step away from mania, which for me is tied to psychosis and an inevitable trip to the nuthouse. So now if I get hypomania -- just a whiff of it -- we pack on extra mood stabilizing medication. And it's back to the oh-so-evil mental tar pit I go.

My husband joined me yesterday to see my psychiatrist, who took one look in my eyes and declared me hypomanic. He increased my medication immediately, told me to take today off of work, and rest all weekend. I started the new dose last night and figured I'd be conked out today -- but no, I am not. Here I am wide awake, worried I might get fired, scared about getting hospitalized again, craving alcohol (a huge no-no for me) and wondering if the grocery store is open at this hour, and feeling very upset and worried.

I haven't woken my husband up yet. Do I ask him to stay home from work? Should I give him all my wedding rings and other jewelry so I don't give them away to some stranger like I did once before? Should he take the car keys away in case I try to drive up to Canada, like I did once before? This is the time when I still have my wits about me but I'm frozen from all of those horrible memories of what happened to me when I quickly escalated -- in a blink of an eye -- into psychotic mania. This is the time that I must fully come to grips with the cold, hard truth that I have a mental illness. And a serious one at that. This is the time that I am just plain scared.

***

I have made my coffee and swallowed an extra anti-anxiety med and another 500 mg. of my mood stabilizer on top of the increase my psychiatrist made. I don't want to take any chances. I want to put myself in a very deep sleep, in bed where I know I will be safe and out of trouble. I need to send an email to my boss -- even though my husband will call in for me today -- explaining myself, explaining my temporary setback, telling him he can still rely on me and I am a good worker...or do I? Why am I so ashamed and scared of what people think of me? Why do I feel so abnormal, so less-than, so unworthy? I'm in talk therapy working on all of this. But it doesn't seem to help.

I don't feel well right now. I'm getting tired. I'll write more later.