Today was a good day. Or, at least, it was a manic day (but not a Manic Monday, to be sure). I was manic enough to actually want to get out of the house, to go with my fiance and son to a restaurant and grocery store, to not only survive a visit from my mom but actually talk through most of it and to not be thoroughly exhausted after all of that social interaction. Not even one little itsy bitsy panic attack. Furthermore, I was manic enough to have three long phone conversations with my daughters (I wonder if they were manic too) and to not lose my temper much (compared to usual) with my son as he poured cereal all over the kitchen, climbed up on the desk and dumped all my pens out, and threw his toys all over the house a grand total of 22 times.
Moral of story: Mania was in my favor today. It made the day good. I didn’t even mind the racing thoughts, and my fiance didn’t seem to mind me interrupting him (because I couldn’t wait to tell him something until he finished what he was saying because I might forget, and you know the tragedy of that!)
I just really couldn’t ask for a better day. I don’t think hypomania would have covered it. I know depression would not have. And my “balanced, normal, regular” self…who the hell is she?? I really can’t remember. And I don’t even want to at the moment, because I’m sure she’s boring. I’m sure she is appalling. I’m sure she never refers to herself in third person. What a drag.
In closing (maybe), I will say that there are parts, little snidbits as I call them (much to the dictionary’s dismay) of bipolarhood that I don’t mind, and sometimes even crave. And this is one of them, this whole day. This whole wonderful day full of brightness and wonder and brilliance and everything magical that one mind could possibly -or impossibly- contain -or not contain, so watch out for exploding heads. I can’t stop it and I don’t even want to. I’m not even afraid of the too-high or the huge crash that is just around the corner. It’s just absolutely wonderful to be ME. Today.