Keep Calm and Carry On: the Morning After Manic

I have bipolar disorder.  I have lived with it for awhile and while most of the time it was under control, I would slip sometimes.  Picture this:  I would be broadcasting normally, but every now and then there would be static.  While a normal person would calmly try to fix the problem, or even take the tack of doing nothing, understanding that sometimes time is needed to mend things, nt me.  I would go into a panic mode, and franctically start turning dials and banging on the set, without any plan, without any voice saying, whoa, stop and look at this before you do anything more.  No, a manic state would develop and, if I was lucky, somehoe the combinations of whatever steps I was taking would produce a result and reduce the static - or it wouldn't, and I would find myself in a depressed state.

Please keep your arms and legs inside the ride vehicle at all times.

The good news is that I have, as DuPont would advertise, better living through chemistry.  I take the drug Seroquel daily.  The greatest benefit, by far, has been its help in sleeping.  Beofre my diagnosis, my mind would be on its own Grand Prix when the sun went down, and often I found mysel living for weeks with only 3 or 4 hours of sleep each night.  In fact, I can remember a time when each night I would literally dread lying down in bed, knowing that the harder I would try not to think about things, the more easily they would come to mind.  All of them.  Squeezing in and yelling, "Think about me!  No, think about me first!"

I have a bad habit at times.  While some people drunk text, I manic text or manic email.  I will suddenly feel there is some need - usually not real - to "fix" things.  Fix what?  Oh, does it matter?  Maybe I suddenly think about a conversation that took place six months ago and think, "I really didn't explain myself back then," or worry that I no longer matter to the person and suddenly feel that I died five years ago and I am a fading memory.  And that's the only thing keeping me on earth right now.

 

But why text or email?  Because my manic states usually occur in the early morning hours.  And even I know, that is not the time to call people.  I might be manic, but I am considerate.

 

And if I get no response?  Guilt usually follows the mania, accompanied by self-abnegation, and I have a good cry.  The god cry is a blessing, because often is the time I don't and depression comes down like a stage curtain.  Then I feel I am separated from the world, staring at the ratty, tattered back of a velvet curtain and surrounded by all the debris of backstage, while the audience exits, laughing, to get into their clean, late model cars and drive home to a good night's sleep.

 

Ah, Seroquel.  Last night my manic state was my own damn fault.  It was about 11:30 pm when I realized that I forgot my Seroquel and I didn't feel tired - which immediately put me into a panic state that I was not going to get sleep.  I panic that I will be thrown off my schedule, that I won't be able to get up early because if I take my Seroquel, it will put me down for 8 hours and I dread a groggy feeling in the morning.  But if I don't take my Seroquel, the demons will come out and I will start obsessing, simultaneously, on getting the car registration changed in Tennessee, how I should not have gone to the Tennessee Aquarium while there is still work to do around the house, I might have irreparably ruined a friendship, Seroquel's effect on weight gain, my son's hypothyroidism, what furniture I need for the kids' rooms, etc., etc.

 

But I took my pill and woke up at near 9:30 am this morning.  I don't like sleeping past 7:00 am, but thank God it is Saturday.  I can take my time doing things.  Even now I am dropping things by writing them down and thinking, that's not pressing, it can wait, right now take baby steps to ease off the roller coaster.

 

And for God's sake, remember to take your pill by 7:00 pm tonight.

 

If you are someone to whom I reach out during my manic states, my apologies.  Please don't be mad; the best way of helping me is to joke about it.  Humor is my life jacket.  So throw me one.  Ask me which pole I'm firing off now.  Remind me to use my ADA status to get a better parking spot.  Knock on my forehead and ask if Eve can come out and play.  Or tell me I'm being goofy by texting back some stupid picture to me.

 

Thank you.