The Warm Breath of Spring

…..well, at least we had a day of it. Yesterday it was 61 degrees and the sun was peeking out between the clouds, and all of a sudden it felt like the promise of new beginnings was about to burst forth. Or some such cliché. But whatever it was, after the long, cold, evil winter we’ve had, it felt MARVELOUS.

Today things are pretty much back to normal, e.g. chilly, damp, foggy, and otherwise yucky, but as I looked around my yard this afternoon I saw signs of spring everywhere: the daffodil shoots have worked their way up through our cold, wet clay, there are new leaves forming on the rosebushes and the hydrangeas, and even the lithodora, which I’d feared had been killed off by the arctic cold and the heavy snow, is showing signs of life.

And under my mellow exterior, Manic Barbie is jumping up and down for joy and yelling “YIPPEEEE!!!”

Oh, yeah, I can feel it all right. We’re changing to Daylight Saving Time in a week, and already the prospect of longer days is making me think ahead to warm twilights and the commingled smells of new-mown grass and meat grilling on the barbecue out back. Already my fingers are itching to start digging in the dirt and getting ready for gardening season……why, I can practically taste sun-warmed tomatoes straight off the vine as I type this.

Cue Manic Barbie: “Ican’twaitIcan’twaitohPLEASEspringcomenow!!”

Actually, what I really want is summer, because springs here tend to be merely a less-chilly extension of winter—basically, dreary and wet. We do get the occasional warm spell though, and the fact that the temperature broke sixty degrees on the last day of February bodes well. Last year it was 75 on Easter Sunday, which is almost unheard-of in late March, and we went on to have a warm spring and a most pleasant, long summer. I’ve always been a warm-weather kind of girl, so I treasure every day of sun and 70+ degree temps I can possibly get.

There’s only one little fly in this particular ointment, and by now I’m sure you know what it is. It doesn’t help that I’m coming off a brief episode of hypomania and the leftover energy is still stirring itself around just under my calm surface…..all I’d need are a couple more days of sun and relative warmth, and suddenly EVERYTHING IS POSSIBLE! and the world literally bursts into bright colors. That’s when the blue eyeshadow and turquoise-colored skirts come out to play, when I’m breezy and sassy and carefree…..and when the sleep hours go down and the anti-psychotic dose goes up.

Naturally, Dr. Awesomesauce watches me like a hawk around this time of year, although he felt confident enough in my ability to use my PRNs correctly that he said it was OK to go two months between appointments this time. Of course, I can always call if I do start coming off the spool, but obviously that method is best avoided as I’m not terribly reliable about that. I tend to think I’m not doing as badly as I really am, like last week when one of my best friends had to tell me, literally, to take a Pepsi break—in other words, get the hell off the Internet and go to sleep.

It would be much better if I could just get the hang of catching these things faster. I’ve done a lot better in the past year, but I still have this habit of sitting in the middle of a mood episode with my mouth hanging open, not believing I’m really having one. The thought process goes like “Oh HELL no, this is NOT happening, I am NOT manic or hypomanic or anything else. My brain’s just making it up. I’m FINE!!” or words to that effect.

In the meantime, spring is on its way, so I’d best be prepared: Garden tools cleaned and oiled? Check. Hose inspected and not needing to be replaced? Check. New pots and potting soil purchased? Check. Zyprexa prescription refilled and easily available to shut Manic Barbie the hell up? Uh-oh……

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.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: