Just a Little Unwell

Do you remember those cartoons where the coyote was always chasing the road runner until some gruesome disaster abruptly ended his plots for the day? There was always one episode where the coyote would be running full speed after the bird and the feathered menace would stop just on the edge of a cliff. The coyote never stopped though. He kept running, defying gravity on a parallel plane until his momentum stopped and the sudden realization that there's no earth under his feet dawned. Kersplat.

I'm starting to wonder if I'm that coyote, just realizing that my safety net's been torn away and barring some tornadic gust of wind, I'm about to start free-falling. Except, this free-fall isn't some exhilirating plunge that ends poorly. It's more like falling with birds of prey dive-bombing you.

I hate to admit it, but I think my brief excursion into the darling, hypomanic world of this disease is plodding to an end. I knew it would, despite my best efforts to prolong its visit. I'm not one of those bipolar people who stays up for months at a time. Nope. I get just enough happiness to know what I'm missing before I crash into my old, sad self.

Welcome to another mixed state.

I feel like grabbing someone's yappy chihuahua and breaking its neck just to hear the sickening, yet satisfying pop. After killing the unsuspecting canine, I'd have to bury it and periodically put dog treats on the dirt above its decaying body. I might be a murderer, but I'm not heartless.

I can't crash right now. I can deal with the bouncing between up and down, but I can't crash. I have too much to do. I crashed all summer long. This just can't happen right now.

Denial.

So what's going on here? I have a theory (don't I always?).

My doc started me on lithium a couple days ago because he didn't want me going farther (further?) up. Of course, I wasn't concerned about that because I was already worried about coming down. But whatever. I had stopped taking some of my meds so I figured that I owe him one for being a problem patient.

Okay. But what happens when you take an object that's already headed down and give it a biochemical push? My theory? It sinks faster. Unless my mood can find a way around this downward thrust, I'm headed for melancholy.

And maybe I am trying to figure out how to thwart this disheartening trend. Maybe that's why my brain feels like the left half just had a bitch fight with the right half and now they aren't talking.

Being here sucks so bad. I feel helpless and a bit worried, like an airplane passenger listening to a drunk pilot slur a warning about upcoming turbulence.

Hopefully, this is just a glitch on the radar and I'm concerned about nothing at all.

Keep your fingers crossed.

|