The Tribe Has Spoken

…loud and clear. I am NOT allowed to go off my meds, or change my hair (that’s the latest itch I want to scratch). Well, I can change my hair if I want to, but I probably shouldn’t until I get a handle on whatever’s gotten into me.

I announced my thoughts to my family as well, and what they said was “No”. As in no no no no no no no, a thousand times NO! They know as well, or better than I do that it’s never a good sign when I want to cut my hair—by myself—as that only happens when I’m becoming manic. I can’t count the number of times I’ve whacked my hair off when I got a wild hair up my butt. It was always in the spring or summer when this happened; I haven’t taken the scissors to it in years now because my son-in-law would have a conniption if I did, but all of a sudden I want a hairstyle I wore in the last century. Think Debra Winger in Urban Cowboy. You know, long loose curls. (This from someone who has wanted straight hair all her life and now has it, thanks to the attentions of a master stylist.) I have a very nice, sleek, up-to-date ‘do, but here I am wanting to go back to the ’80s. WTF is up with that!?

It’s funny, I don’t feel manic, but something is definitely different and it’s not due to the weather because it’s been cloudy and cool until today. While I have racing thoughts, I’m not overly gabby and I’m not arguing politics on Facebook; I also have some agitation going on but I don’t feel like cleaning everything that isn’t red-hot or running for the hills. I don’t have the stamina for that anyway…my back aches ferociously with very little activity, so I spend a lot of time on the sofa bouncing my leg.

I came up with a one-liner joke when I was trying to go to sleep last night that I almost posted on Facebook. I don’t know why, it just popped into my head. It goes, “Sexting: junk mail”. Well, my son laughed at it…

Speaking of whom, he and I went to see my sister today. Louise lives in an assisted-living community in a small town that is way off the beaten path, so we don’t get out there very often. Ethan is a lot of fun to be with, especially one-on-one, and we had a great time during the drive to and from the facility. We talked about booze, palm trees, moving to Texas and other matters of consequence. (No, I’m not kidding about Texas—the “boys” have some ideas about moving us all down there sometime after Ethan graduates from his Bachelor of Science in Nursing program.) He used to go to horror films with me when he was a teenager because he was the only one in the family besides me who liked them. So we enjoyed each other’s company as we drove through the warm, sunny afternoon and paid our visit to Louise, which was cut short by a text from his boss asking him when he was coming to work! He didn’t even know he was on the schedule, so we made a beeline for home and then he rushed off to work, an hour and a half late for his 2-10 shift. Oops…

Anyway, the verdict is in so I won’t be doing any experimentation with my meds. I still want to, but I’m an adult and adults don’t always get to do what they want, particularly when it’s not in their best interests. As my hubby reminded me, I feel and act normal BECAUSE of the meds. Duh.



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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