Oh, yes. Following a blissful manic episode that kept me awake til nearly 5 am feeling ten feet tall and bulletproof and as high as anyone on a multitude of illicit narcotics…
The aftermath of mania has arrived.
I was fine all morning and early afternoon.
Then, like an attacker hiding behind a tree, I was ambushed and went sailing down the depressive rabbit hole. No trigger. No stressor. Nothing. Just flying high and SPLAT.
Now all the stress of this week is piling up and making me feel like I am in the middle of a roaring ocean without a life preserver. Spook’s birthday party at my mom’s. School registration. Saying goodbye to Bex and getting her to the bus station on time. Getting my kid a physical and her shots for school. Praying the waiver for waived fees is granted because I do not have $85 for her kindergarten registration.
Avalanche of stress.
But none of it was really weighing on my mind during the mania, or coming down from it. It was just this abrupt crash where I became lethargic, irritable, snappish, and sad for no real reason.
This is the hangover from a manic episode.
Of course, the professionals beg to differ that I have manic episodes because their duration is so short lived. It just lends credence to the crap ass shrink who determined me to be more cyclothymic. Meaning exactly how it sounds. My bipolar runs in brief cycles, resulting in very short periods of mania and stability with excessively long depressive bouts
I always remind myself, this too shall pass, but it’s of little comfort while braving the sea of abysmal darkness in your own mind.
Now…to end on a note that I suppose could be offensive and insensitive but it made me giggle when I read it.
Did you hear about the goth kid with dyslexia?
He sold his soul to Santa.
Ho ho ho.