Manic Tuesday: One week later.

What a difference a week makes. I just reread last week’s post and it’s like it was written by another person. I guess you could say I am back to “normal”, whatever “normal” is. I am definitely  not manic. I had about 2 days of high energy and then I just plateaued. I am not exactly depressed, though sad. (I found out yesterday a Facebook friend died. Even though I never met her in person, I would have liked to have and I am feeling the loss.) I kind of feel myself sinking back into my old rut of mild to moderate depression, the kind where I’m not suicidal, but I’m quiet and disinterested in everything and sort of lost in my own head.  I am not in the danger zone, but it’s not a good place to be. I expect I’m not a joy to be around, if you were to ask my husband or family and friends. Of course I’ll be avoiding all of them except my husband as much as possible, because that’s what I do. I withdraw. The fact that I am writing this is something new. I don’t know if I will continue. Just depends how low I get. I may  log off here and focus on other writing projects. A few days ago I forgot to take my bed time meds with dinner and I didn’t sleep all night and was sick and miserable. I didn’t figure it out until the next night, and I was angry with myself, because it was my own fault.  It depresses me that my wellness depends on a couple of handfuls of pills a day. I don’t know who I am without drugs. Every time I go off meds, I become suicidal. So I take my meds faithfully, because the hospital is not a place I want to be ever again. But I just forgot.  Stupid, stupid, stupid. Nothing for it. Just have to get back on the program and try to stick with it. I’ve never been very good at taking care of myself. I think that’s why God sent me Steve. Steve takes very good care of me. Steve notices when I don’t feel well. He makes sure I eat and drink even when I don’t feel like it. But even he can’t save me. I have to save myself. I have to make the choice every day to get out of bed (or not) and take my meds and try to live my life. He can’t do it for me. No one can. Some days I can’t. Currently, I’m getting out of bed around noon. I get up with him when he goes to work, but I go back to sleep “for a few minutes” and then it’s noon. A whole morning wasted. So I get up and eat and take meds and try to get things done and not think about going back to bed. Recently, I started taking Adderall for ADD. That’s what caused the manic episode. It felt great. I wish I could be slightly manic all the time. Laughing at everything until it hurts, full of energy, getting things done, mind sharp as a tack, thinking positive thoughts, not dwelling on gloom and doom. That would be ideal..That would be the real Me. That’s my goal, always, to be centered. Neither too high, nor too low. Lord, let me be.


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