This post will probably seem somewhat disjointed because I’m having trouble concentrating today. It goes in spurts; some days my focus is laser-sharp, while others find me unable to string together a cohesive series of thoughts.
Today is one of the latter. Even this short post is taking forever to compose. My nails tap the keyboard as I search for words while ideas swirl maddeningly just out of reach. This must be what having attention-deficit disorder is like, although I don’t carry that diagnosis. Sometimes I wonder about that in spite of the fact that I only get crazy-active when I’m hypomanic. However, I can usually channel that energy into goal-directed activities unless I go into full-blown mania, in which case I bounce off the walls of the universe.
Which has nothing to do with the present situation. I’m really only writing because I need to put something out there for my readership and I’m too spacey to get into my usual groove. I forgot my AM meds the other day, but that should’ve been an issue then, not four days after the fact. I was wondering why I was so speeded-up and irritable, until I noticed my Breakfast of Champions was still in its slot in the pill minder. Of course, by that time I was due for my nighttime Fistful of Sanity. Shit.
Now Will is back on my case about taking my meds, even though I’ve been 100% perfect otherwise since I got out of the hospital in November. (Yeah, I checked my mood chart.) That’s pretty good. But then, I’m pretty motivated too, because I do NOT want to end up in there again. Besides, there’s a lot to like about being free from big mood swings.
And now the stereo is playing Elton John’s “Benny and the Jets”, which instantly takes me back to the summer of ’74, when all I had to worry about was my tan and whether my bikini would fit right. Sure wish I had those problems now!