Tuesday, October 3, 2017

I Feel Crazy

Two posts in two days. I want to say that's a good thing but honestly, I don't know. This post will probably be unlike anything you've ever read here, but again, I don't know. You see, I'm rapid cycling right now and it's making me feel absolutely crazy. I'm sorry if this post sounds crazy. I just need to write it while it's there so I can remember why I'm starting back on medication tomorrow.

I came back from my trip and I was sad. Of course I was sad. There were things that I so badly wanted to do but there just wasn't the time to do them. There were so many good things that happened, but also emotion crashes that happened that honestly needed to happen. They taught me lessons that I needed to learn. Good lessons. Strong lessons. ...and I was sad because I missed him. I always miss him, hearing his voice, and all the good things, but it's always so much harder after I've spent time with him.

By the time I got home, I was exhausted, not just physically but mentally because ten hours is a lot of time to think. The thoughts weren't bad but there were oh so many of them. The combination left me rung out and when I woke up Saturday morning, depression was trying hard to take hold. I didn't want it to. I didn't want him to know just how much it hurt that he was too busy to say good morning or I love you or anything like that. This isn't shocking behavior or anything that he's done or is doing wrong. This is me. This is my brain. This is my brain on whatever chemical cocktail that it had come up with this time.

So, I asked myself what would he do...why he'd work of course. So, I put myself to work. I'm dealing with dehoarding my house so I went into my office/studio and started working. I cleared space. I built a bookshelf. I filled the bookshelf. I cleared other shelves. I purged. I dusted. I cleaned. I did it for at least eight hours straight without stopping. I didn't eat. I drank from time to time. I just worked. When I made myself stop, I nearly twitched sitting on the couch. I could see what needed to be doing but I wasn't doing it.

Sunday was more of the same. I spent another eight hours at least clearing off desks, emptying drawers, rearranging things, reorganizing things. I couldn't stop. I had to keep going. I had to. I needed to. When I stopped it was because someone had ordered me pizza and told me to put myself on the couch with it and some tv. It was one of the hardest things I've done in weeks.

My brain said you have to keep going but my body was screaming for me to stop. If given the choice, I'd have listened to my brain.

Yesterday, I was exhausted. I made myself get up. I read the news and I cried. I was immediately emotionally overwhelmed. There were no reserves. I took myself away from most of it as much as I could and did what needed to be done. By early afternoon, I was a disaster. I spent a lot of the time driving into town in tears because suddenly the smallest things, things I could easily take care of, had completely overwhelmed me. It was all too much. I talked with someone and they listened and let me talk through each of the issues and pointed out that I had already solved all of them and that it would be okay if I skipped everything else, got some dinner (again I hadn't eaten) and just went home.

I didn't though. I went and got dinner, went to a writer's meeting to see if I would like it, and then went and watched the last hour of marching band rehearsal. I needed to at least see one of my kids, to be reminded that I had done something right.

Today though...oh god...I'm manic again. I wanted to start back on the office. I wanted to rip totes apart, purging, and sorting, and organizing. I couldn't though. I had to work on the book. I gave Nick my word that it would be done by the end of the month and I'm so far behind. I just had to work on it. I told myself just one chapter, just get through one chapter and you can stop. Eight hours later, I finished one chapter. It took me all day because I couldn't focus. The harder I tried to focus, the worse it got. I started having physical stress manifestations...itching all over for no other reason than I was trying to force my brain to do what I wanted it to do. Even now, my head and arms itch and it takes so much for me not to scratch until I'm nearly bleeding.

I can't focus. I can't remember things. I just want to "do" and not anything else but that isn't life, is it? You can't just always "do".  I told Nick that I had finished what felt like the world's longest chapter and he told me to keep going, that it was the only way it was going to get done. I put my head in my hands and nearly cried. It seems impossible that I'll ever get this done. I know he's not doing anything more than trying to encourage me. I usually love when he tells me to get writing because I know that it's because he believes in me more than anyone else in the world. I know that all the pressure and the voices are all in my head when they scream that I can't do this, that if I don't do this he's going to hate me because I let him down. Nick is never going to hate me...but just writing those last seven words has my heart in my throat.

I don't know if any of this even makes sense or begins to describe what it's like to be manic. I don't know if it describes how your brain says keep going, keep going, even when your body is about to collapse due to exhaustion. I don't know if it begins to describe what it's like to try to hold normal conversations with people online, to problem solve, to handle things, all the while your brain is spinning out of control. If they were to be able to see my face, they'd probably see wide eyed terror. I'm trying so hard but I feel as if I'm spinning out of control. Sometimes I swear it's not the depression that will kill me but the mania...the moments where I feel every thing 100 fold and everything seems so huge. I panic. I can't breathe. It's why physical labor works. I'm away from everything and everyone and I can't think. I don't have to think. I just have to do....

....and this is why I go back on medication tomorrow. I don't want this to be me. I don't want to feel like I'm outside my own body looking in anymore. I don't want to force myself to stop, to breathe, to eat, to do things others do without thinking they're a big deal. I don't want this to be me.

Now, I have to go do another chapter because I cannot let him down...I promised...



First I want to say I'm proud of you for recognizing and having the self introspection because those are hard things to do. I also know having the symptoms you have is quite a whirlwind. I know not because I have them but because I've witnessed, rode shotgun while a close friend was manic on a trip. And I've been her ear/shoulder many times to tell me all the conflicting talk from inside her head. I've assured her that she's talented and capable and that there is no reason to believe that she is an awful person.

How does that segue back to you, well, I haven't really been your shoulder or ear, but I do know enough to know you are not an awful person and that you are capable and talented just like you do know intellectually but emotionally it's a completely different...beast. And therein lies the problem. When your brain is all mushy from the wrong chemical cocktail reason doesn't really matter. And I do understand the feeling of trying to get away from all the thoughts by doing all the doing you can do until you pass out, except obviously in a manic phase the passing out takes a lot longer than a person without a manic phase. I hope that you find a balance soon, that things are more calm but not boring. I wish you luck and success with the choices and changes you are making to be a better you.

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