If you have a heart condition, amusement parks remind you not to ride the roller coasters or to do so at your own risk. Unfortunately, when you are bipolar, you don’t even realize you got on the ride until after it is over. Isn’t doesn’t matter if you have gone through a depression to manic episode, both leave you with a strange awakening when the dust has settled and the ride is over.
Sometimes, you can see this demon creeping up on you. Sometimes, it just sits on your chest trying to smother your hopes and dreams. However, if you admit to seeing a dragon, you are probably already on your way to a manic episode.
Most of my life, I’ve suffered from more of the depression side of this disease. I’ve had hypo manic episodes and only recently started having longer manic episodes. Manic behavior is triggered by many things and different things for different people. I have pinpointed my behavior to emotional attachments, overextending myself, working too much, indulging in my amazing artistic talent, insomnia, and continuing this cycle until I have saved the world. Note the grandiose god like abilities I contain in this fleshy body of awesomeness.
The night before thanksgiving, I stayed up cleaning, rearranging the furniture, dusting, reorganizing, prepping. After all the cleaning, that led to me noticing the patch holes on the walls so of course I needed to paint those. Then, the baseboards looked so dingy next to the new paint. And how could I leave out the door frames?All of this was done with a one inch brush around four in the morning. I couldn’t leave the garage door looking like shit but didn’t want to pour paint so I just spray painted it. By 6am, I finally wound down and went to sleep, only to get up at 8:30 to make the turkey and continue with normal turkey day festivities. That should have been a clue, the one inch brush.
I don’t remember the order of events. I can’t discern between Friday, Saturday and Sunday. I do know that during those days, I wore a batman onesie and destroyed my yard trimming trees, the poor garden didn’t deserve to go like that. I tried to start a bonfire in the fire pit outside that almost made me start a fire in the kitchen because I couldn’t find a lighter. I called and texted many people inverting the subject and predicate with no sense of spelling. My new favorite addition to this manic behavior was seeing a new friend, or creature, a tiny dragon that spoke too much. I kept shushing her. A friend if mine suggested I name the dragon, so if I go batman gardener again she will know who I’m shushing. Her name is Pandora.
I unwittingly fought a fight with myself. I bruised my arms and legs. Fell into the walls bruising my shoulders. Fell on and bloodied my knees. I fell out of bed and landing on my face giving myself a bit of a shiner. In an attempt to quell the manic behavior, I took a sedative and continued to take them until I had taken them all. I don’t remember taking them and don’t know if I was intentionally taking them. Drugs and alcohol are an interesting chemical cocktail in the manic mind. They don’t always effect the person in the manic episode. It’s the gasoline for an uncontrollable fire.
As the days unfold, I see the worry on peoples faces. There eyes sad, corner of their mouths turned down. Worry lines crease their faces. There’s no assurance from my mouth that can appease them. Their look is pure concern. Real concern that makes me concerned.
I reverted to my plan of action. All people with a mental illness should have a plan of action. I just finally just included my friends and family in it. I called my doctor, took someone with me and prayed they would just adjust my meds and send me home.
Prayers answered.
The spinning wheel in my brain has subsided. The other shoes hasn’t fallen. I am also concerned. The mirror image of being the mother of dragons is a suicidal nut case who gets admitted to a psych ward or hallway in nothing but a gown and net underwear. I’m hoping and waiting like a lab rat to see if the dose will allow me to stay on this universal plane.
It’s hard to admit you are bipolar. It’s hard to admit you need help. It’s hard to take medication. I have found my way and accepted these traits.
Welcome to Author Ahiddibah Tsinnie's Website 