Unsafe At Any Speed

You know how ideas seem so great in the morning light, and then by nightfall they’ve lost their luster? Yeah, me neither…..usually it’s the other way around.

So I don’t know what the hell got into me the other day when I decided that now was the perfect time to try reducing my antipsychotic, as I talked about in the previous post. Last night, as I lay in bed staring at the ceiling with my mind racing at the speed of light and so physically agitated I was keeping my husband awake as well, I was cursing myself roundly knowing I had to get up early this morning. And my theory about the medication making me oversedated in the morning doesn’t hold water, either—I took the lower dose again, hoping that I’ll settle down soon and be fine, and I dozed off again while on the john.

All of which makes me think that maybe trying to grow a brain isn’t such a hot idea after all. But then I went and did something so amazingly stupid today that I’m beginning to believe I’m unsafe at any speed, and ought to allow myself to be led around like a little kid who’s just pissed her pants. I mean, this was what the younger generations call an EPIC FAIL: a mistake that anyone with the IQ of a radish would’ve known better than to make.

I’m not going into details about the nature of the mishap, not just because I’m humiliated and angry but because THANKFULLY no one was harmed, and I’d just as soon leave it at that. It’s bad enough that I know about it, and that it’s made me face a painful truth about myself. As the song goes: the old grey mare, she ain’t what she used to be.

I wonder sometimes what my life would’ve been like had I never become acutely ill back in December 2011. I’m sure I’d have gone on being clueless as to what was making me screw the same things up over and over, but I also wonder if I’d still have some ability to pay attention to detail. It’s what having adult ADD must be like—I get distracted easily, then can’t focus on the task at hand. Conversely, if I do manage to stay focused on the task at hand, I miss what’s going on around me, and that’s not good either.

I can’t win. And for today at least, a big part of me doesn’t even want to try.

Published by bpnurse

I'm a retired registered nurse and writer who also happens to be street-rat crazy, if the DSM-IV.....oops, 5---is to be believed. I was diagnosed with bipolar I disorder at the age of 55, and am still sorting through the ashes of the flaming garbage pile that my life had become. Here, I'll share the lumps and bumps of a late-life journey toward sanity.... along with some rants, gripes, sour grapes and good old-fashioned whining from time to time. It's not easy being bipolar in a unipolar world; let's figure it out together.

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