Destruction of the immediate and profound.

I couldn’t quite let it go.

I didn’t write something for this morning, and it has been frustrating me all day.

I even came up with 8 topics to write about, but given the nature of the morning, I couldn’t make the magic happen.

Since Corey’s return I have been subject to an increasingly intense hypomanic episode. Each day has been more severe than the last until I’ve been right up near the cusp of mania, and I had been forcing myself to sleep each night through the addition of a sleep aid to my bedtime snack.

Normally that will take things back down a notch, but it didn’t seem to help this time around. By yesterday the world around me had become both immediate and utterly profound in that floaty sort of way that only the upper regions of hypomania can seem to afford.

And while I kept being told how much others love the sensation and want to gobble it up, all I could think was that I didn’t want it.

Sure, the physical sensations are quite nice. But it is difficult when I was becoming distracted by the smell of the wind off of Puget Sound or the Piroshky shop. I couldn’t carry on a conversation because the words became intertwined, and the apartment was shrinking around me, and I would misplace the second half of my sentences by the time I’d only uttered the first half. Try to get something done then.

On top of that, the fear is in me. The knowledge that things could becomes quite worse very suddenly and without my noticing. What if I tried to pay my bus fare with a handful of buttons? What if I said something offensive to someone important to me? What if I became so distracted I forgot to go home? It all sounds fun and silly but is a genuine concern!

By Wednesday I was running furiously on the treadmill when I remembered the prescription my psychiatrist had given me (and I hadn’t filled) for this very situation. I slapped a hand to my face, suddenly realizing my error in failing to fill it right away would mean at least 24 more hours of intense fluctuation between agitation (a mere annoyed and frustrated kind, crazy girlfriend hasn’t shown her face since Sunday) and euphoria.

So yesterday I went about my business as best I could, filled the prescription and just barely made it home. There were 1 million and 1 distractions, but somehow I managed to evade them all.

I karate chopped it [the episode] with risperidone, however I have been forced into being a zombie as punishment all day. Up until maybe an hour ago I don’t think I could have put a written sentence together to save my life. I am hoping by tomorrow things will mellow back out.

And both fortunately and unfortunately, my skydive was cancelled today because of the weather (thanks Seattle). We’re rescheduling for another day, which is annoying (because it would have been awesome) but kind of good (since I was a zombie today).

This is a rather unusual place for me to be, so I am still at a bit of a loss when it comes to handling it. It does make me laugh, though, when people on the street seem to think I’m just high on drugs… when I am on drugs, just not nearly the ones they’d expect.

As I said, I couldn’t seem to let it go that I hadn’t written anything, and the result is this brief explanation. Perhaps I will have something of more value tomorrow.


7 responses to “Destruction of the immediate and profound.

  1. My trick with the ideas that don’t get followed through upon is to save them as drafts for a day when I have no ideas. They’re usually decent ideas, so I try not to lose them.

    Man, do I know what you mean with being at a loss on how to handle the constantly changing mental states. I wish I felt like I could get a grip on this, but I know it’s going to take time. I’m just not very patient.

    • Sarah @ bi[polar] curious

      I definitely still hold on to the ideas I have, no matter when I think of them. They usually are solid later, and if not they’re always good for a laugh!

      I’m an extremely impatient person, but I also tend to be pretty competent, so in the long run I think it evens out a little bit. What’s silly is that I seem to handle those constantly changing states ok, it is when they just happen to stick around suddenly that I get confused. Having long episodes is not something I’ve had to deal with much before (at least not extremely elevated ones), so when I’m expecting a 6 hour high and get a 6 DAY high I am definitely at a loss.

  2. I think you handled this really well and did what you could before the risperidone. Good for you.

  3. I never, ever want to feed a hypomanic episode. I don’t care what people say about the bliss of euphoria, or how much the episode begs me while I’m in it. I know the reprocussions of such actions.

    I know how you feel about the absence of focus, but I’m on the other end of the spectrum. I’m so depressed that I can only live moment by moment. Everything else is too big, too scary. I feel like I’ll be gobbled up at any moment. I can’t think of anything outside of the very moment I’m in.

    I hope you are feeling better soon.

    • Sarah @ bi[polar] curious


      I’m sorry to hear you’re in depression land, I am hoping I wont be headed in that direction after how high things have been the last little while.

      The moment to moment focus is a pain, but there is something honest about living in one moment at a time (as uncomfortable a it can be). Maybe I’ve just gotten used to the feeling over time, so I can take comfort in aspects of it. When it comes to losing all focus entirely and floating around without rhyme or reason, that is when I panic. It almost seems like living in no moment at all, or every moment, which I find incredibly terrifying. If I’m not living in the moment, my sense of self seems to evaporate.

      I hope you feel better soon as well! Definitely avoid being gobbled, if at all possible.

      • For me, it works in the opposite. Living moment to moment takes away that element of being overwhelmed. That’s usually where the panic starts for me. I feel like I’m being crushed.

        Momentary living takes the pressure off of what is going to happen tomorrow. I’m in a place right now in my life that I know what’s going to happen tomorrow. And the next day, and the next. I like that. It gives me certain freedoms that I wouldn’t otherwise have, despite the logic to the contrary.

        Sometimes, I just can’t stand the thought of having a tomorrow. But, I know that there is no way, barring some odd accident, that there won’t be a tomorrow. (I’ve given up on the idea of suicide. Long story). Moment by moment. Breaking it down, step by step. Because the big picture is just too freakin’ big.

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