Medicated Christmas

This is the first Christmas I was not manic. I was manic prior to the holiday. Weeks before, I was flying high. I wasn’t sleeping. I was working early on the book. I bought a MasterClass pass to take online writing classes. I was taking online classes with Neil Gaiman and learning the piano at three in the morning. I shopped on Amazon and spent close to $400 on ornaments for my Christmas tree. It seemed reasonable at the time. It always does in a manic moment.

The doctor adjusted my meds but it needed time to kick in. Slowly the mania has begun to fade away. There has been slight burst of energy but it tamps down quickly and dissipates before it turns into something ugly. I no longer have superpowers.

It has been a week since I have logged into my online class where I started writing a short story about a dreamworld of reality and a bipolar heroine who is the only one who can see into the realm of the unreal and fight demons. I try to make time to play the piano, even if it is for a few minutes. The dogs like to go into the empty room and roll around on the new carpet.

Now that the shine of Christmas is over, I don’t know if the brightness of mania is over and my meds are where they should be or if it is just that, the shine of Christmas is over. I slept in for the first time in months. It’s raining outside. No sunshine. I feel low and but now quite dismal. I feel just a bit out of sorts.

I worry about my mom. My mom is not doing well. Her memory is failing her. She cried because she forgot an appointment and our plan to go to the movies was interrupted. It wasn’t a big deal we can go tomorrow. I worry that my stepmom being gone will be hard on her for the next two weeks. I will only be able to be there for her for the next week while I am out of school. I won’t be able to spend every moment with her.

I am concerned. I don’t know what I will do without my mom. She is everything to me. This also has me a bit upset. I’m going to lose my mom while she is right in front of me. She is going to fade away and be present doing it. Bit by bit she is going to lose pieces of her memory and it’s going to hurt her to do that. A mixed-up appointment hurt her and she cried. I don’t know what she is going to do when she misses more than just an appointment. I don’t know what else she isn’t telling me what she doesn’t remember.

I’m scared for her. I’m scared for me. I feel selfish for worrying about myself when my mom is the one going through this illness. I can only pray that it doesn’t steal her light.

As I shuffle through my emotions of the day after Christmas, I don’t know if my meds have me feeling “normal” or down. I know we managed to keep the mania at bay for the first time in three years at Christmas. However, now I feel sluggish. I may need to cut back on the drugs. I think they did their job. I need to wait and see. I can’t make a decision until I’m back in action at school and processing work.

Medication management of bipolar symptoms is key to health. I’m trying to be compliant. Now that I feel a bit out of sorts, I don’t want to take anything. It’s strange how your mind plays tricks on you. You know you need the drugs. You know you would be worse without them, yet your inner voice is whispering to you to stop taking the drugs.

Maybe I’ll go to the movies. Maybe I’ll go back to bed. Maybe I’ll just go play the piano for a bit. Maybe I’ll just sit here and obsess over what I’ve written. Who knows. Only my brain will tell.

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