Just about the time I think I’m over all this bipolar business, something happens to remind me that my stability can evaporate very quickly if something goes seriously sideways in my life.
It almost did yesterday. While I won’t go into the reasons for the scare, I will say that my feeling of safety and security was majorly threatened, and I’m still shaken up even though things got better rapidly after all was said and done. I haven’t felt fear like this since 2014 when Will and I almost became homeless. I even had to pop a Klonopin to calm myself down, and I NEVER use it for anxiety, only sleep.
In the meantime, my thoughts were racing, my heart was pounding, and I felt as though I was tipping over into a mixed episode. My butt was glued to the park bench at my grandson’s birthday party, but my brain was on fire and I wanted to run as fast as my feet could fly (which admittedly isn’t very fast). I barely ate; my stomach was tied up in knots, and I was suddenly so irritable that it was all I could do not to yell at the kids who played nearby.
Some might say that my reaction to the stress was normal and completely understandable given the circumstances, and they would be right. I’m talking about the feeling that I was spiraling out of control, which I haven’t encountered in nearly three years. I’d forgotten what that was like. I was so uncomfortable I even took my nighttime meds a little early, and I welcomed the calm that stole over me as they began to take effect.
Today, after a night filled with strange dreams, I feel like the worst is over. I’ve been assured that my place in the world is safe and I needn’t worry, although it’s going to be awhile before I can trust again. You know how it is when the scales fall from your eyes; there is no going back to innocence once a security breach has occurred. And although I know I’m loved, I have to remember that unconditional love is rare, and I will probably never experience it in the flesh again.
This afternoon, life is back to normal as if nothing ever happened. However, I rose up this morning on guard and more protective of my stability. I hope it won’t be threatened again for a long, long time (preferably never), but I’m not taking it for granted. I’ve worked too damned hard and too damned long for it. In spite of everything that’s happened in the past 13 months, I love my life and don’t wish it to be any different… except maybe for a bigger bedroom and my own bathroom. That’s supposed to happen when we move to Texas. Last night we all sat out on the deck talking about our future and making plans for the move, and it felt good to be part of that discussion.
I can’t wait.