Impaled By A Spoke On My Own Mood Cycle

I did not get to sleep easily last night. I was sleepy but my body ached and brain would not shut up. I finally took a shower hoping that might either revive or relax me. I slept. I woke every hour or two, but that’s the sucky norm. When the alarm went off, I didn’t even hit snooze. I killed it. I had all these ideas about hitting a couple of yard sales before I had to pick up the spawn, easier to do things without kid in tow, plus kind of a reward. Oh, nooo, the mental health gods would not allow that. I might get some enjoyment out of life.

So I started out with good intentions but then I got to the cobblestone street where the block sale was and PANICKED. I mean, I freaked out. My brain went into red alert and told me my tires were flat, I just hit that bump too hard and now the car is falling into the street, all the people are staring, I can’t get out of the car…Then came the rationalization…”Maybe this is the fates’ way of telling me not to spend a dime, keep it all for gas and such…Yes, all $12.

I grabbed my kid. Thanks to my sister being thoughtful and ya know, gainfully employed, I was presented with some purple irises, a card, and an awesome t-shirt for Mother’s Day. Did not expect that, so it was a nice surprise.

To my amazement once home and in the bubble, I started to force myself to do little things around the house. Watch a bit of a show, pause, work, return to show and have a smoke, rinse, lather, repeat. But I folded five baskets of clothes, did the dishes, and I am cooking my supper. I even let my kid play outside, but she kept bickering with her little friends and running in and out so I put the kibosh on that as my formerly calmed anxiety started to climb again. Since then she has gone out of her way to bicker with me on every tiny thing, including the date on the calendar. I am exhausted by this child.

And while earlier, thinking, “I’m pretty low but I am doing all this stuff tha overwhelmed me yesterday so maybe I just needed a do nothing day to rest and reboot.” Few hours with a bickering bored child, loud neighbors, ringing phones…And panic bubbles up and my mood crashes. Which with the gloom and rain was bound to happen anyway. Kenny nicknamed me Nicarus a long time ago and in a way, it feels perfect for bipolar. When I am feeling good or at least high functioning, I am indeed Icarus flying to close to the sun. The depressions and anxieties scorch my wings to ash.

Much like being impaled on a spoke of a bicycle, only it’s my mood cycle. Lovely.

JEBUS. Spook just yelled to get into the bathroom ‘cos the toilet is broke and I went into frozen panic, cos the floor is cracking and caving in there and I thought, oh, god, it’s dropped through to the ground…But no, it’s just a broken toilet lid so while inconvenient, at least not catastrophic. Not that the panic attack cares.

I’ve hit my wall. I tried. Today was just a wash. Got some things done, but it wasn’t stellar by any means. I am going to eat my supper, retire to my crypt, maybe watch some crime shows or try reading Jonathan Kellerman. I am going to give myself permission to relax and rest up because after tomorrow…It’s time to do the dish dweller thing all over again.

On a side note, still no goat horns growing from my nostrils while taking the Latuda. I don’t suppose it’s been long enough to make a correct call but something feels quite…off. Not like bad side effects off (though weight gain, when being bitched at about your weight, is kind of a catch 22 the fuckers flog you with) but…Just off. Between that and Prozac I should be borderline manic. Instead I just keep circling the drain. It’s not my favorite.

I want my life back. Then I wonder, outside the of the high functioning bouncing off walls manic episodes that lasted four or five months…Have I ever had a life outside the depressions and anxiety attacks? I think I did, but then again, it’s easy to live when you’re manic and think nothing can take you down. The other end of the spectrum is when the darkness takes over and you think so much as a wisp of air will take you down. Talk about a lifetime of the tightrope act.


5 Responses to “Impaled By A Spoke On My Own Mood Cycle”

  1. I had all kinds of witty stuff to say, but POOOF! Damn MI brain. It was something along the lines of “return on 1 Morgue” clown shoes…not even funny.
    I think we all want our life back in some capacity. I think the only way that the scientists will ever find a “wunder drug” is if they have PET scans through trials. There’s the damn answer. No wonder I can’t be witty and snarky-too scientific right now…fuckall. I’m going back to my writing.
    Don’t leave the crypt. Reboot.

    • I wonder what life that would be. I have had this since I was a little child in some capacity. I never had a life really, nope no life ever. Sucks!

      • That sounds like it does suck. I think so many wish for what’s dead and gone…ugh I can’t type. It’s taken three tries to type out some words…time for bed. Took my Trileptal which makes me drunk-dizzy…wooo this is fun! Not really -_-

      • I have to take my medications and try to settle down. The headache is almost gone. By the way…I was an infant on meds so I could keep my bottle down. Mild tranquilizers. That’s what I mean by started so early in some capacity.

  2. Tightrope act is a very good way of putting it. I suspect that you’re a leeeeetle harsh on yourself; no matter how hellish the rest of it was, you did manage to get some stuff done. If I’d folded that much laundry I’d definitely be taking myself out for a great meal or something.

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