It’s Friday, November 1, and I feel like something the dog found under the house. All that fresh air, exercise, and Halloween candy was great, but it really kicked my butt. Throw in a double whammy of hardcore psych meds, and I want to sleep until Christmas.
But they’re doing their job: the fever of mania has broken and I’m able to think rationally again, even if I still have some cobwebs to clear out of my brain. Of course, the sheepishness has already set in: I’m embarrassed about my behavior, even though I don’t remember some of it, and now I’ve got to make amends with the people who were affected.
I do recall going totally apeshit with the political stuff this time, and a good friend wound up handing my ass to me (although she did it in a way that didn’t make me defensive) for acting like a jerk. I think I’d better say “I’m sorry” to her first……well, after I apologize to my husband and doctor for being loud, sloppy, profane, and generally uncooperative.
And once again, I am astounded at how quickly I can escalate from hypomania, which is fun, to full-blown mania, which is NOT. This time I could literally feel the change over about 12 hours, and let me tell you, when you’re wide awake in bed in the wee hours, with your legs jumping all over the place and your thoughts flying all over the universe, the loss of control is TERRIFYING. I remember that first night especially, when I was watching the shadows in my bedroom form themselves into grotesque shapes and telling myself that I really wasn’t seeing what I thought I was seeing.
But when it came time to call my p-doc the next day, I made excuses not to because paranoia had also dug in—what if he put me in the hospital? I have no idea why, but as my readership knows, I have a primal fear of “downstairs” and I desperately do not want to go there. Unfortunately, I tend to forget this when I’m waltzing around on Cloud 9 and ping-ponging off the walls of the universe!
Now, let’s see how long it takes for my brain to figure out that it’s not getting any antidepressant. This is day two off the Celexa….much too soon to know how it’s going to affect me. I can’t help worrying because I remember all too well the calamitous reaction I had the last time, yet things are very different this time and I’m much better medicated than I was then. I’ve also had a decent break between mood episodes (although what that has to do with anything remains to be seen). It’s a blessing that I have work this weekend and will have something to think about besides waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Funny, it just occurred to me to wonder if anyone else does recaps of their mood episodes the way sports commentators analyze football games: “Well, BPN, your O-line isn’t making those big plays, and you’ve gotta get your defense to be more aggressive against the rush……..”