You’ve Come A Long Way, Baby!

It’s amazing what a difference a week makes.

This time last week, I was agitated, angry, anxious, and being an ass. I’d tried tweaking one of my meds—the one I learned very quickly is the glue that holds me together—with near-disastrous results. So I went back on what has become my normal dose, and now I’m as good as I ever get.

My head is clear, and I can even remember SOME things without having to write them down. My mood is great without being elevated. Life makes sense again. And yesterday I received a compliment at work that gave me some confidence in myself, which (to say the least!) has been sorely lacking for many, many months.

As it happened, I was doing admissions like I always do on the weekends: and as I was finishing up the last one, the charge nurse told me that she really likes working with me. Seems it’s because I always try to solve the little problems that come up on my own, rather than run to her first (an ability that some apparently lack) and because I “don’t freak out when things go sideways”. She also told me that she would’ve never suspected I was bipolar from the way I conduct myself at work.

(pumps fist in air) YESSSS!!!

It’s been a long time in coming, but well worth the effort I’ve been putting in. I’ve had such difficulties over the past couple of years that I’d almost given up. While it doesn’t mean that I can work the floor or handle large amounts of responsibility, it does mean that I’m beginning to carve out a little niche for myself at work, and maybe—just maybe—I might regain some of the respect I once had. And that would go a long way toward keeping me on an even keel.

Obviously, this medication does as well. Who knew that a mere forty milligrams of a substance could mean the difference between sickness and health? This is what normal must be like: a positive outlook without grandiosity; abundant energy without the urge to race around in all directions; a mind that’s alert without being overstimulated. And while I know that this phase won’t last forever, I also know that I’ve come a long, long way since starting on that first bipolar medication a year and a half ago.

Now, if I can just resist the temptation to mess with ’em when I’m feeling really well….

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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