I’m recovering from an upper back strain. The other day, I shared this with my boss. I’m working on a stressful project that started in May, and I’m feeling overwhelmed. Twice she has said at meetings that I may have a mental breakdown – ha ha ha. 😐

It occurred to me that maybe I push myself to the pain so that I can share it for sympathy. I feel that I can’t share my mental pain for fear of stigma (also people at work have some negative misconceptions about bipolar disorder). Multiple days, I’ve taken more drugs to help me sleep through this stressful time. I need to remember this so I can stop taking things out on myself when stress is high. Not a very well formed thought, but I wanted to put pen to paper on it.

I’m still feeling pretty keyed today. I had dental work, so I’m now keyed and sore. Taking Advil and watching the Circle (guilty pleasure). Followed by bed.

I am limiting my interactions with people as much as possible. One clue to my manic ascent is that I want to be friends with everyone. I am reeling it in now; saying no to going out with friends, not pushing to make friends with strangers, and not reaching out to acquaintances.

“Spring is nature’s way of saying, ‘Let’s Party!’”
— Robin Williams

The sun has been shining for days. This is a bit peculiar in this neck of the woods, so I have the windows open and will go outside for a walk this afternoon. Yet I will temper my hypomanic little self and not go for a walkabout.

Last night, I took a Seroquel to sleep heavy. I avoid this one as much as possible. This is my heavy hitter, my Harley’s Hammer to get some sound sleep. It puts me to sleep and keeps me there. However, waking up feels like fighting a battle against sleep (and walking around at night is bruisy).

For decades, I didn’t know there were medications that simmer me down (I think I’ve lamented this in a previous post). I knew that antidepressants could throw me for a loop and Lithium can stabilize, but not 100% (for me). So I played the game of wait for mania. Winning this game was often accompanied by an incredulous look from a doctor and some variation of the words “you must not be taking your lithium.”

When my husband gets sick (hospitalized/ED sick), I often push myself into exhaustion and out jumps my friend mania. I don’t blame her, I think she is there to help me eek out that extra energy I need. When I start to feel “keyed” or like I’m turned up to 11, I take a clonazepam and do something that will help me simmer down now; listen to music – super chill playlists, breathe, tapping and VR meditate (new additions to the repertoire), etc. I feel like a robot fighting to power itself down. Gentle huzzah, sometimes it works. I’m still in gently choppy waters. Breathe in four, hold four, out eight. Tomorrow is another day.

Reset password and brushing off my bipolar blog soon.

I have been at a decreased amount of lithium for almost two months. My sleep has been pretty solid. I went to a sleep doctor and got tested for apnea, just in case. Sleep is my greatest weapon against mania.

I’m still remembering my dreams, which is a treat (aside from one or two nightmares).

Next month I go back to endocrinology. Hopefully, my labs will look better.

My husband’s health has kept me busy. He had an a fib attack last month that had him admitted to the hospital, and they found other issues. I decided it’s time to seek out a therapist.

On my health front, I’ve lost 30 lbs this year by following the Mad TV diet – eat less move more. Simple? Yes. Easy? No.

Two days in a row this week, I was emotionally rocked by stigma at work.

In a meeting, the word nutcase was casually used multiple times. I find some solace in the fact that my autocorrect couldn’t find that word.

Yesterday, a coworker made a joke in a hall about someone giving me a white coat. My other coworker/friend goes on to further explain that that sounds like a straight jacket. Ha ha ha thud. I have been restrained, and it was one of the most humiliating events of my life.

When this happens, I usually feel shell shocked. I’m too afraid to out myself and threaten my job, but I hope to get better about not rolling over. Maybe I can say that mental health disorders are not funny.

When I started online therapy, I was skeptical.  I think I’m always a little skeptical at the beginning of relationship with a therapist.    It was strange at first to text my therapist, but the anonymity gave me the freedom to really let loose.   When we started the cognitive behavioral therapy homework, something clicked.  I didn’t realize how how much I was soaking in negativity. I also forget how simple and effective CBT is to turn around my thinking. I haven’t used it since my mom died.

I also reconnected with my psychiatrist.  It is comforting to have someone in the wings who can help if/when things go south (or would mania be north?).  I was concerned about some of the drug advice from doctors (e.g., megadosing Advil).  He was helpful and gave me some advice about clonazepam.  Apparently, it is really bad to drink with it…  So, I’m no longer drinking on nights I take it for sleep.

The cat has decided to sit on my lap, end scene.

I’ve succumbed to the allure of online therapy.  I’m nervous and excited for (another) anonymous outlet.  I appreciate this blog, because it helps me work through some of my bipolar issues, and I’ve received nothing but support from my fellow bloggers.  Doing this helped nudged me toward talking to someone and reestablishing contact with a psychiatrist for med management.

Thank you, interwebs.