Agitation most foul

I think one of the curses of bipolar disorder is the occasional forays into anxiousness and agitation that occasionally afflict me when I'm just starting to venture away from depression. I think the jittery nervousness, gastrointestinal distress and and mental restlessness are simply manifestations of changing brain chemistry, although I think that the nervous anxiety is the way that my mind tries to balance a rise away from lethargy because heaven knows that nothing makes me more upset and depressed than being hyper and anxious. Maybe anxiety is the product of having newfound energy and no outlet for it, as if my mind has become so accustomed to being lazy and slow that the raw products of inspiration cannot find actualization and thus, must find a path to expression even if said expression is frustrating, ineffective and unpleasant.

I'm hopeful that this current malaise is a mere 36-hour hiccup, an annoying sojourn brought on by the inconsistent sleeping and eating that have characterized my weekend. Tomorrow, it's back to work and back to waking up at 5:45, back to breakfast at 6:30, lunch at 12:40 and dinner at 5. Yes, I'm a 50-year-old AARP member trapped in a 24-year-old woman's body.

Three months ago, the first stirings of restlessness were awakening in my mind. I was transitioning from the chronically depressed recluse to a slightly more productive member of society and to that end, I found myself a job that doesn't require brilliance, just an inordinate amount of patience. Now, that restlessness is growing and it needs an outlet or I fear I might nag Brendan to death with my repressed enthusiasm for planning our upcoming move in May, a move I can't plan until we figure out where we're headed. I'm waiting for my muse to more firmly possess my mind before starting any literary endeavors and frankly, I suck at drawing and painting so they offer no relief for my new mental energy. I suppose I'll have to content myself with reading for now. But I'm a bit itchy for action and it's rather odd and uncomfortable given my recent battle with such a sluggish lethargy.

I suppose it's normal for someone my age to have a bit of ambition and inspiration. What isn't normal is to be so devoid of thought, emotion or energy that a complete withdrawal from life seems comfortable and appropriate. Sometimes it's difficult to have valuable insight into my moods when I was low for so long that the mental tundra that is depression seemed normal.

I guess if I really think about it, I would classify my current mood as normal or perhaps very slightly above normal. I'll have to keep an eye on it.

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