Daily Archives: July 12, 2012
Look at this will you? Another Thursday has snuck upon us and time is just fwooooshhhh flitting by. Yeah That’s what that rush of air that went by your head earlier was. Time. The days and hours and seconds and months and the moments. Today’s Mental Moment… Well how about that? Talking about moments in … Continue reading
i estimate having slept between 2 and 3 hours last night. i am not pleased.
i am afraid of myself. i feel like a volcano. or a geyser. or something else that is unpredictable and explosive.
i’m not yet familiar enough with bipolar to know how to compensate, to try and bring me back to stasis.
not that i wouldn’t mind some hypomania. it sounds awfully nice, i’ll tell ya. i could get drunk and party and have lots of sex and spend money i don’t have and do drugs and forget about all of my current and impending responsibilities. a little psychological vay-cay.
it’s the depression that will follow, however, that has me shaking in my boots. i don’t think i have another round in me to deal with it. it’s too much, too recent. i’m still reeling from the last “episode” that seemed to last FOREVER.
on top of that stress, i’ve arrived at the very dismaying realization that i am late.
i am late. for a very important date.
i have not had my visit from Aunt Flo for 42 days and counting. now, i have a long cycle but even for me that’s long. i’m hoping it’s stress.
it’s stress, right?
so, along with my psychiatrist appointment today, i’m going to get a fucking test to see if i’m prego, because i can charge it to my bursar’s account at school.
i will just shit myself, literally, if that fucker comes back positive. i paid over $400 for a 10-year IUD in 2009. it better be doing its job.
usually when i’m talking about regression, i’m referring to a statistical analysis that predicts an outcome variable from one or more predictor variables.
not this time.
now when i think regression, i’m referring to a rather strange and possibly disturbing trend in my behavior. i’ve noticed that, over recent months, my behavior has taken on somewhat of a child-like quality. i can here it in the tone of my voice sometimes. i’ve been drawn to a few of the things i found comforting in childhood. my behavior is decidedly more juvenile.
what does it all mean!?
i am already developmentally delayed as far as maturity goes, at least by some standards. but this is a different mentality entirely.
take, for example, the last couple of weeks. i have gone on a children’s cereal extravaganza. i brought back all of my old favorites, starting with Lucky Charms. Then I had Captain Crunch. Then Frosted Mini Wheats. I just finished off the Corn Pops.
the most disturbing aspect, though, is when i hear my own voice go from normal to 7 years old. i catch myself and shut my mouth until i can regain my senses.
my cognitive ability isn’t far behind. i have trouble reasoning through complex problems. the idea of going to a meeting with my peers is just about the most terrifying idea ever (besides the one i’m going to talk about in my next post…). anything that requires me to articulate something beyond the most basic sophistication gets jumbled somehow. i can’t even think about the future. the past seems swept away as soon as it happens. it reminds me of the strange, disconnected mental space i was in for most of my childhood.
i just hope it doesn’t take me another 20 or so years to get out of it.
Like a train, that is, not a boozehound. It’s not the most productive of getting by, but yanno… it’s something. I suspect I’ll start getting frustrated with it soon, ’cause I keep feeling itchy to write (whether it be fiction or some more personal back story here), but I get overwhelmed before I can even think past, ‘Hey writing, that would be cool.’ By the same token, why do I persist in blogging daily? I think one could probably argue that it’s gone past the point of a challenge and right into neurosis. And they’d probably be right, but it still enables me to say that I do write daily. It doesn’t have to be much, but it’s just that little nugget of daily achievement, of knowing I did at least one thing. Surely that’s a good thing? And it’s not like I’m doing it for anyone else, I’m doing it for myself. And yet, I feel sheepish if I can’t crank out epiphany after interesting story after arcane wisdom. *chuckles* But I know that’s the dregs of perfectionism talking — no human can be ‘on’ all the time, and especially not any introvert with a modicum of self-preservation!
Ah well, back to cultivating blessed silence in my brain. There’s been a few skirmishes of intrusive thoughts causing my anxiety to jag, but I’m still mainly holding it together.
i’ve been shockingly productive the past two days and it’s late and i need to get my sleep on track so i’m going to make this a short post.
first of all, i’m still on the hunt for the truth about the widely reported 90% divorce rate statistic for bipolars. there will be some interesting findings to report soon…
second, hats off to a fellow author at the Bipolar Blogger Network, Psyche Salve, who wrote an amazing post that I think you should read. There have been quite a few posts (that I’ve seen) floating around lately, including my own, about the decision to have children as a bipolar. Her’s seems to capture my feelings about it quite well. Check it out, here: I love my children too much to have them.
Are there any Songs about Wednesday? There are poems I know, that mention Wednesday, one that comes to mind is a nursery rhyme; Monday’s child is fair of face, Tuesday’s child is full of Grace, Wednesday’s child is full of Woe… Woe? Man, Wednesday’s child got a crappy deal if you ask me…. I mean … Continue reading