saddy-coated smiley

today's weather: S L I G H T D Y S P H O R I A
anxiety : 1
agitation : 1

Actually, I think this is supposed to be an elevation.

Yes, I'm currently in an elevation.

Thoughts a-rushing like a mad waterfall, neon-glowing inspiration, elusive sleep. I laugh a lot though I feel very agitated. Best of all, I have genuinely happy thoughts and a constant smile.

The thing is, all that laughter and my constant smile is mostly on the inside. No one else can see it, but it's there, I swear. I've just been having some difficulty getting my physical body to say "I'm happy and I know it", so I kinda look like I'm all saddy instead of smiley.

Here's why: I'm currently on a nightly dose of Pregabalin, and Cetirizine Hydrochloride. The Pregabalin was prescribed by a rheumatologist for the impinged nerve/s in my hand/s. The Cetirizine is for my allergies; my rashes made a comeback and I'd prefer not to have them around. I chose not to take any drugs in the morning anymore (as per rheumatologist's suggestion) because they cause drowsiness and just drown me of energy. I mean drain me of energy. Not drown.

But since I'm actually in an elevation, I have just enough energy to go through the day despite the drowsiness. I'm just lethargic, but I can afford the strength to resist going back to bed, and my mind is (semi) sharp (at least sharp enough to watch science documentaries and remember most of it). Besides, I've written myself lengthy to-do lists, I don't want to waste time in a horizontal position.

So yeah, this is actually an elevation that has been tapered by sleepy side effects similar to the traits of a depression, so it is in effect a mixed episode.

But believe or not - as drowsy as the meds make me, I still can't freaking sleep. At most I can take several intermittent naps at night. No matter how tired I make myself in the day, the depths of sleep elude me; all I can do is swim over the surface.

It's possible of course that the sleep-loss is partially due to the discomfort caused by wrist guards. Sheesh, I have to sleep with wrist-guards now, on both hands, until they heal up. Good thing Dr. Rheumatologist didn't tell me to wear them the whole day. I still have to take the Pregabalin for around three months, so I suppose that's how long I still have to wear those wrist guards.

Speaking of the Pregabalin -- I did my own research and discovered its other side effects (Notice how doctors give prescriptions without mentioning the possible side effects?). After reading on Pregabalin's description and indication and so on, I get sucker-punched by a paragraph that starts with "You may have suicidal thoughts while on this drug". Oh, great. "You may suffer from depression".

Since I already have suicidal thoughts even without the drug, does that mean I'll have them more frequently and/or more intensely? I haven't noticed a difference yet. I should have told the rheumatologist I'm bipolar. But I didn't, because I didn't think it mattered. Darn.

But aside from the suicide note I began to mentally compose the other day, I think I'm okay. Well, I'll give the doc a call if things get worse. Tsk. But so far so good.

Curb My Enthusiasm

today's weather: S L I G H T D Y S P H O R I A
anxiety : 1
agitation : 1


I was in an elevation the past few days and today I'm feeling something that could be mistaken for depression, though I know I'm not depressed because I'm not feeling the least bit sad. I'm just feeling a bit lethargic, that's all; but the racing thoughts are there. I know I'm not at baseline because of the anxiety, irritability and the voices and noises.

I'm pretty sure why I'm feeling lethargic and slightly disinterested today: Antihistamines. I can always count on Benadryl to be a downer.

On top of that I stuffed myself with potato chips, another certified downer.

The Hubby brought me breakfast in bed (actually, it was lunch; I woke up at noon), as well as the latest episode of The Big Bang Theory. I didn't have any reason to get out of bed, did I?

Today is Valentine's day and I'm too drowsy to go out and do anything. Which is just as well, since we don't have much money to spend on anything fancy today. The Hubby and I will just "celebrate" by vegging out on the bed watching DVDs and downloads. Oh, happy, lazy bliss.

I'm thinking of going back to sleep now.

zzzz(idea)zz(obsession)zzzz(thawt)zz

today's weather: SLIGHT DYSPHORIA
anxiety : 1 | agitation : 1

I have to give my fingers a break; they look swollen and my nails are chipped from my latest creative rush. But my imagination won't let me rest. Even as I close my eyes to sleep, ideas keep flowing and they tickle my fingers to produce something.

Even after I exceeded my target number of necklaces, I submitted to the creative monster in my head yesterday. Sorry, sore fingers. It's either that or I obsess over the jolting images I saw in the docu about the Maguindanao Massacre on History Channel (footage and info not presented on the local news - quite informative though disturbing). And I'd really rather not replay those grisly images in my head.

Come bedtime, I solved a crossword puzzle as usual (checking and rechecking the items and the spelling, tracing and retracing each letter like a good obsessive should) while I waited for the Benadryl to kick in. I've resolved to not "work" when it's time to sleep so as to ensure I catch a sufficient amount of zees, tempting as it was to continue the necklace I left unfinished. I felt drowsy enough while on my second puzzle. I curled up under the sheets as I submitted to the diphenhydramine.

And then the stuff I'd watched on the Maguindanao Massacre played over and over in my head. Good grief. then sprouted a lot of thoughts and opinions on it that I wanted to blog about, but then i realized that that particular topic won't fit any of my existing blogs.

I remembered that I started blogging in 2004 partly because my head was rich in random musings and obsessions, and it helped me to focus and quiet my mind to write things where I know they might just be read by someone other than myself. Sometime 2008 I made several separate blogs, each assigned a different theme / topic because I couldn't stand how everything was all hodge-podgey in my old site. Now I have thawts that don't go with any of my existing blogs and I don't want to create a new one.

EDIT: I got over the Maguindanao Massacre docu after watching a show on Jack the Ripper, also on History Channel, also with shocking photos of mangled bodies. Those mangled bodies. It wasn't my first time to watch a feature on the infamous Ripper, but it was my first time to see one with uncensored photographs of the victims. Tonight, I should watch something happy and wholesome. Happy and wholesome.

My Own Version of Moloko Plus

today's weather: S L I G H T. D Y S P H O R I A
anxiety : 1 | agitation : 2
today's unwanted guests: creative spurt, extra energy with a feeling of fatigue (weird, huh?), voices and noises and presences. dammit.

For the past three nights I've capped the day with iced rum mocha. Plus 100mg of Diphenhydramine to help make me sleep (One little capsule does't work on me anymore so I popped two). My own mild version of Moloko plus.

Alex and his Moloko Plus. Pic from here.

Last night though I rethought my new night ritual because I was on the wrong edge of edgy for a few hours after drinking. My doctor will kill me when she hears about my experimental cocktail, if ingesting it doesn't kill me first. Racing heartbeat, excess energy, mild tremors, an urge to scream and laugh and run and fall down. My minor hallucinations were having minor hallucinations. I imagine would be the sensation behind Alex Delarge's tolchok sprees.

That's what happens to me when I mix stimulants with relaxants. I think my high school Health teacher taught us about this; no wonder. It reminds me of a time three years ago when I drank Red Bull while doped up on Unisom (althought last night's trip was not at all as extreme nor fun). Or this time back in college when ... uh, okay, never mind.

I felt so creatively inspired yesterday so I was tempted to skip sleep again. Swimming around in my head were design ideas and various matters of concern; I had to force them out of the pool so it could be cleaned for use the next day. Skipping sleep isn't good - that's why I took the Diphenhydramine.

I have no excuse for the rum mocha though, save for a sweet tooth. Maybe tonight I should just stick with a carton of ice cream.

exit, depression; enter, creative rush

today's weather: S L I G H T D Y S P H O R I A
anxiety : 1 | agitation : 1
unwelcome visitors: ambient noise

It seems the depression dip of the year has passed; it usually happens within the period from July to September. In October I usually go on an upswing and catapult into dysphoria during the Holiday season.

This year's depression has been the happiest in the past few years. I sank into a moderate depression for one day only as far as I recall - much, much better than staying in it for weeks as have before. I believe the blues were curbed a bit by my having to shuttle to and fro regarding important family matters; it was a bit stressful but it kept my attention away from myself.

Also I commend myself for the wise move of getting out of RavenCorp; it's a huge factor.

Lately I haven't blogged as much - which ordinarily occurs when I'm feeling happier. As usual, I have a rush of creativity. These days' creativity is channeled into making decors for a Tim Burton Un-Birthday Party I'm organizing with my sister and a few of her friends (it's a wholesome alternative to Halloween). I've already made a bead-garland to hang from the lighting fixtures, and a few fake abstract paintings. Currently I'm working on a Nightmare-Before-Christmas tree (it's going to be oh so cute!) and little rag animals to hang on it.

cylindrical

today's weather: S L I G H T . D Y S H P O R I A
anxiety : 2 | agitation : 2






I'm glad that my skin hasn't been breaking out this year. I didn't even change my skin care routine. I believe it's really just a benefit of less stress.

It seems like the elevated phase didn't last long; darn my rapid cycling. I had a few days of dysphoria in which I had racing thoughts, had an increase in creativity and found a lot of things funny. But at the same time I felt extreme fatigue, lost interest for the books that I earlier found compelling. I also noticed my meditations easily slunk into sadness and almost-suicide. I knew better than to stay in bed, so I managed to immerse myself in making pretty things so I wouldn't.

I may only be feeling depressed today because I've been sick, so this might not be a real depression. I'm still hoping it's not. No fever - just some nasty gas trapped in my tummy with accompanying muscle pains and headaches. My torso was nearly cylindrical yesterday; it would have been a funny sight if everything didn't hurt so much. I'm feeling better now because I've had some treatment, but I still feel kinda woozy.

I gave my books a rest awhile because they started to give me headaches. I don't know what exactly it was I couldn't keep up with, but I had this feeling I couldn't keep up with something. I'll return to the books when I'm feeling a bit better and can read a little faster again.

I kinda think this is a depression, but I'm still hoping that it's not. I hate being depressed. Given, I write better when I'm depressed, but I just hate how it feels. I still do those coping things but it gets real tiring at a point. I usually slowly get worse at this time of the year, then hit deep depressions after another before the ber-months. Those are the ugliest, most horrible parts of the year.

I'm hoping things might be better - or at least, more manageable - this year because circumstances have changed.

inward-turned violence

today's weather: S L I G H T . D Y S P H O R I A :\
anxiety : 0.5 | agitation : 1
today's unwanted guest: fatigue, voices and noises, loud behavior



Today I felt like I was surrounded by imbecilles and needed to pull out a shotgun.

The depression slumped down into almost moderate intensity in the morning, i.e., I was too fatigued and burdened to do anything, but in the evening I was ripping heads off.

chopping locks again

today's weather:
SLIGHT ELEVATION + SLIGHT DEPRESSION = SLIGHT DYSPHORIA :(
anxiety : 1 | agitation : 2
today's special but unwanted guest: monophobia


I woke up yesterday morning knowing it was Easter Sunday but not really caring. I remember that earlier in the year, I had a few things planned for Easter, Easter was supposed to be rather significant, but all that has changed now thanks to a treacherous friend called Life. I am left now with a hollow, yearning, feeling.

I looked in the mirror and hated my hair. I wanted to do something drastic. I reckoned that my hair was already so bad, I could't do much worse. The Hubby and I were to leave early for church (yes, 8 in the morning is too early for me), so I had time only for rash decisions. In a random obsessive-compulsive fit, I chopped off a hand-breadth of length from my tresses, dismissing the last of the leftover rebonding from the last treatment that now just make my hair look like Kikuchi Rukia's. I cut it with gusto, finding pleasure in slaying those flyaway guerillas. So it's shorter now again - not exactly boy-short the way I had it around 1998 0r 2003, but more like emo-boy short. After washing and drying of course, and due to the lessened weight, it lost all straightness and settled into my soft, natural waves.

The Hubby seems to like it; he has always preferred short hair on me. I don't dislike it, I'm not too crazy about it, but it's a welcome change. I don't normally like the waves on my hair, but this sort of works. It's just that it lost its luster and there are too many strands waving in the wrong direction. This tells me I ought to seek the help of a professional to tame them. I really do intend later on to go to a parlor to have the cut polished, but I kinda can't afford to spend these days. I'm broke and the Hubby just started in a new job, so I have to curb my wants-but-not-needs. And I thus have to settle for unfabulous hair for now and depend on the iron and various products. Sheesh.

Other people seemed to like it. It's a welcome change. But despite the likes, I am too aware of the misbehaving waves, the dull surface and the jagged cut, so I am just itching to run to the block parlor. Besides, I neither want to have to waste time with the iron nor scoop goop into my hair.

Why does hair have to be such a major issue? Darnit. I wasn't blessed with fine hair so I actually have to make an effort. And until I get to a parlor, it will be a recurring issue, an impertinent squatter at the back of my mind, incessantly poking and stoking my already rising anxiety and agitation.

I thought about shaving it all off, or cropping it real close a la circa 1998. But I'm not so sure about that just yet. If I get too OC in the days between now and the next pay day, I probaby will.

EDIT: Due to my obsession over my hair, I ended up cropping it close. One inch hair all over. Tsk, tsk. It's so darn short now, bordering on cool and psychotic. At least I can't obsess over it anymore now.

fight night after fright night

severely elevated | very elevated | moderately elevated | slightly elevated | BASELINE | slightly depressed | moderately depressed | deeply depressed | severe depressed || anx : 0 | agit: 0

This week, the Hubby went on his first day on his new job; he begins this month with trainings. He has night hours for now, so I had to be alone all night. I had trouble sleeping that night - mostly because the voices and noises and presences kept coming. Man, it was sheer torture. Even more torturous was the fact that I couldn't turn to anyone physically present to dispel my fright.

The following night as he was getting ready to leave, I tried to be all responsible-like and hold all my sentiments in. I tried to be a good, prudent, longsuffering wife who bites her tongue, the nicey Christian wife.

... while trying to bear the thought of being frozen in terror all over again for another night. And another night, and another night, and another.

At the last minute, the waterworks broke the dam - I just couldn't go through another night like that.

After letting me have the full brunt of his frustration, he gave in. He decided to call the new employer and inquire about a daytime shift. It's just funny that he had to go postal on me when he had an option to do daytime anyway. I think it was more that his pride was hurt than he was angry at me for being so needy, but then again I'm not so sure.

The main point (not the main point, but the main point in relation to me at least) of his having to resign from his previous job was that it was unnecessarily difficult for me. It would be utter nonsense for him to get another job that would submit me to a different kind of torture. It's not that I require him to change his whole lifestyle just for me; it's just I need to rebuild right now, and I need his extra consideration.

It's such a male thing that he (and all of the men in this household) keeps doing: go all alpha and expect everyone else in the family to adjust. Right now, I need him to adjust to me for this particular aspect of our lives - at least if he wants me to stay healthy. The way I see it, there are a lot of other jobs he can look into - jobs that won't have to tax me needlessly.


What do I mean?

• Something in the daytime - or if he really likes the graveyard shift, at least 2 a.m. onwards - so I won't have to be alone at night.
• Something that earns us sufficient funds - doesn't have to be a lot of cash- so we won't have to fight about money.
• Something which doesn't burden me with expectations - i.e., where I won't be required to be a shiny, happy, plastic wife.
• Something that he more-or-less enjoys. Because it gets me down when he's down.
  
  

That's really not too much to ask.

Although my paranoid, unquiet mind can imagine those wagging tongues saying that I am too demanding. I don't think I am; I just feel the need to play it safe. Considering how his previous affected me, it's only natural to be mindful of these things.

So there. He's reapplying in the same company for a daytime shift. Pwede naman pala eh...

The positive thing that the fight night after fright night allowed was that I caught his attention to really listen to what I need from him. I've told him several times before of course, but as the way husbands go, he needs to "learn by experience". By this time, he probably already gets that the voices and noises and presences are not exactly a piece of cake for me.

lith-less, and so far so good

severely elevated | very elevated | moderately elevated | slightly elevated | BASELINE | slightly depressed | moderately depressed | deeply depressed | severe depressed || anxious : 0 | agitated: 1

Still not putting myself back on Lithium. It's been a month now I think. I'll push this as far as I can go. I really want to ditch this "underwater feeling" - that supposedly manageable state that is neither comfortable nor normal, but feels like a headache without the pain.

I'll start taking Li again when I get too murderous or phobic. I don't have to reach that place. I think won't, as long as I can stay away from as much triggers and as possible and manage the stressors. Wishful thinking? Yeah, I know. But I just want to give it a try. I don't want to be a dumbed-down drug dependent for the rest of my life.

I've been successful so far. I've been in a bit of dysphoria these days. What I do is I tell the Hubby about any feeling pertaining to depression or elevation as soon as I identify it, i.e., "I am feeling sad," "This excites me," - just that simple. If he knows I'm sad, we'll do something to cheer me up, and so on. It makes me feel safer for him to know - even if he wouldn't necessarily know what to do if I swung to extremes.

I think I'm able to think clearer and faster now. I think, okay.

The downside of skipping Li is that I often feel extremely anxious and agitated. I've yelled at the Hubby several times these past few (my bad, yeah, just shoot me). I obsess obsess obsess obsess about things and it's driving me to more anxiety.

Another is that the voices and noises are getting noisier. More about that later. I have to sleep now.

do you suffer from long-term memory loss? (i can't remember)

severe elev. | high elev. | moderate elev. | slight elev. | BASELINE | slight dep. | moderate dep. | deep dep. | severe dep. || anx: 0 | agit: 0

Okay. So far so good in usually-dysphoric December, but not entirely.

Since the Lithium, aside from the decreased passion and creativity, there has been a whole lot of mental dullness. I am not as quick-witted and mentally sharp as I used to be, and I'm sure it's not just because of aging. The change has been too drastic.

I've also been experiencing not just a difficulty but an an utter inability to focus, which may also be contributing to my difficulty in retaining recent information.

I've also been having a hard time the meanings of multiple-syllable words I am positively certain I used to know.

Bugger all this. I feel like my brain cells have committed hara-kiri in the shame of being treated with Lithium. Bugger, bugger, buggerbuggerbugger.

de-stressing distressing december

severe elev. | high elev. | moderate elev. | slight elev. | BASELINE | slight dep. | moderate dep. | deep dep. | severe dep. || anx: 1 | agit: 2

Just got back from a form of escape which I found helpful to slow things down. And dangit, I want to escape again. If I had the money, I'd do it every week.

Now that I'm back to whatever reality this is (and that, against my will), I will have to face numerous inanities and expectations associated with the commercialized, culturalized, bastardized version of the birth of Christ. I know I don't really have to, but that won't sit well with some people. But hah, as soon as January rolls in, they'd be distracted by real life as well and they'd forget my quasi-Scrooginess.

Which reminds me, I think I'd like to see that movie.

I will be ditching certain parties that I am pretty sure will rate high on the suckage meter. I'm going to choose which ones to go to, because I don't have to be at everything we've been invited to though people make me feel I do. I will not be their guilt-manipulated merry marionette. I think that's actually a good idea because I can waste my time doing something else I would actually enjoy more than putting on a mask and rubbing (filthy) elbows.

I will be skipping on the shopping and gift-giving this year. I don't want to be another victim of unnecessary stress. I already posted a note on Facebook - and I'll be posting it again soon - telling my friends that I don't mind not receiving anything this Christmas. I know that everyone's in a pinch and it would be much wiser for them to spend their money on their children or on the charity of their choice. Besides, I'd much rather NOT receive more useless trinkets and dust-catchers that senders think are good excuses for Christmas gifts.

I still will be skipping out on the lights, tinsel and trimming. Useless crap. Burns a hole in your budget and leaves your home looking all drab and lonely after they've been packed away. The only things I'll be decorating are the homes of my Facebook pets. They don't cost anything and they can be easily replaced with cheerier stuff after the holidays are over.

The Hubby and I will be hiding out on Christmas Eve. And we want it that way. I don't really care if we won't have Christmas ham and all the fancy- shmancy Noche Buena accessories. If we've got some hot chocolate, a thick blanket and each other, that'd be special enough.

"you just call out my name ... and you know, wherever i am ...

severe elev. | high elev. | moderate elev. | slight elev. | BASELINE | slight dep. | moderate dep. | deep dep. | severe dep. || anx: 2, agit: 3

... i'll come running toward the opposite direction because your episodes are really hard to deal with and i'd really rather not get my hands dirty, i ain't your friend... "


You know how it is when "friends" are all friendly and touchy-feely when you don't actually need them, and when you do need them for real, they aren't ever available? Sucksville.

Pet Peeve # 34.

I just feel like assaulting a piece of furniture right now. You know, like in the manner Tom Cruise did when he got all excited about Katie Holmes. Except not in a happy way.

So it was that when certain "friends" heard about the condition, they mouthed out stuff like "How can i help?," "When you need a friend, you can call me anytime". These particular friends I happened to invite to dinner several times, most if not all times were instances in which I was depressed and needed company-slash-someone to talk to, and all not most times were declined by said "friends".

I am extra pisse right now - it''s half past two a.m. at the moment of writing and i still can't get over it - because certain unfriendly actions of said "friends" swung me to a mad elevation, and I just needed them to do some explaining. Said "friends" were, not surprisingly, not available. I made sure to send them each an SMS on how I felt about their token when-you-need-a-friend, you-can-call-me-anytime crap.

Friend FAIL. Friendship over. Good riddance. Go flatter somebody else. It wouldn't make a difference anyway because you're hardly ever there.

Okay, I know i will read this tomorrow and be embarrassed at the level of maturity with which i wrote. NOTE TO SELF: DO NOT DELETE. Hahaha :D Show the world your low E.Q. and be proud of how emotionally unstable you are.

and this is why I am easily not anyone's friend of choice

severe elev. | high elev. | moderate elev. | slight elev. | BASELINE | slight dep. | moderate dep. | deep dep. | severe dep. || anx: 1, agit: 1


Q : What do you do when the people around you keep spouting idiotic things?
A : Ignore them and hope they stop talking. If that doesn't work and if you feel like being a jerk, challenge them to defend their position. Show off your own intelligence to silence them. Speak in straight English to intimidate.


I can justify that i simply crave some intellectual stimulation (well, it is true). And no one dares engage me.

If I should avoid triggers during an episode, i really should stay away from people who think they're so smart but keep saying un-smart things. Pet Peeve # 72. I don't mind talking with people with lower IQ, just as long as they aren't arrogantly trying to project that they're smarter than they actually are.

Lately I've been exposed to a lot of them. Particularly a few "sightly older people" who assume that just because I am younger I am necessarily naive and inexperienced, and that it is therefore their God-given duty to give me their unsolicited advice. I can't really say that they care; I really feel like they're just meddling.

In one recent meeting with said kind of people, I really thought i was being polite, but when I got home I had a more sober recollection of the evening. That's how it usually goes: Bipolar thinks she is doing OK, bipolar exhibits dreadful behavior, bipolar later regrets show of dreadful behavior. Anyway, I had a feeling they invited us for dinner just to push their own agenda, under the guise of extending their appreciation. Tough luck for them that I'm currently in dysphoria - anx 1, agit 2. I think I slightly snapped at this older man and later showed a lack of grace, just enough to make things go silent at their dinner table. I suppose i may have offended their lack of intelligence. Yeah, yeah; that might have been crass of me, but i hope that teaches them not to meddle in things that really aren't their business. If they weren't so nice, I would have told them off for their ignorant assumptions and their artless snooping.

Of course i'm also considering the possibility that my paranoia is getting the best of me.

And this is why I am easily not anyone's friend of choice, and I really don't mind, because I wouldn't want to be friends with an imbecile who thinks he's an intellectual.

call it happysadhappy

severe elev. | high elev. | moderate elev. | slight elev. | BASELINE | slight dep. | moderate dep. | deep dep. | severe dep. || anx: 1, agit: 1

Some friends were asking me how I was the other day and I didnt quite know how to answer that. I told them I was all muddled and fwuddled for no reason; its really just the season. Enter, December dysphoria. I know its not even December yet but its on the way, so there.

wish i were

severe elevation | high elevation | moderate elevation | slight elevation | stable | slight depression | moderate depression | deep depression | severe depression || anx: 1, agit: 1


There's so much I can say about it, but I'd rather not blog about it. I just don't want to do this anymore.

As a way of coping, I slip into schizotypal mode and retreat into a unreal world where everything is pink-and-white tulips and classical guitar music. But i can only employ so much coping mechanisms. Especially when I am needed in the real world.

Oh, I hate you Real World. Screw you for not being pink-and-white tulips and classical guitar music all around.

Someone please just pick me up.

Or give me a quick, clean, painless death.

------------------------------------------------------

EDIT: Four days later.

I read this entry just now (July 16), and .... Hahahaha, that's embarassing. My pride says delete but my lack of it says just leave it alone. Idiotic whino. It looks like something a sixteen year-old would write, only without the sloP tXt spelng.

Been trying to be pleasant these past few. I just don't have enough energy for controversy. Smile like an idiot when I don't know what to say, blink like a sleepy doll when I don't know what to think, mushy up all randomly and kitten-like with the hubby when I don't know what to do.

I've actually been feeling like a zombie, you know, in a consistent state of sleepwake. I'm never really asleep, never really awake. When I am dreaming, i don't know if I am truly asleep or if I'm awake / When i get up, I don't know if I am truly awake or if I'm still dreaming... * Like Edward Norton's character in Fight Club.

I still haven't caught up on rest from the recent ordeal. I don't think I know how. Neglected my meds and my tracking, and I don't know ... wait, what was it I didn't know?

I feel like a slab of raw pork forgotten and fly-drawing on a slimy kitchen counter, sticky and slothlike in my head. I think I think like one now too.

* Lyrics from Dream, Forest for the Trees

StressFest

severe elevation | high elevation | moderate elevation | slight elevation | stable | slight depression | moderate depression | deep depression | severe depression || anx: 1, agit: 2

Haven't been able to go online in the past week due to the ongoing craziness. My father had a stroke (hypertensive bleed) last Sunday and had to be admitted. He had a brain surgery and the sibs and I were uwillingly ushered into an unwelcome lifestyle overhaul. Fortunately things are now looking brighter - Papa's doing quite well considering the circumstace; add to that cheerer-upper the fact that a lot of friends-of-family offered their help and aid.

I'm not really sure where i am on the scale right now. It seems I'm in a nasty mix of both elevation and depression. The flavor of the week is Dysphoria galore. A thick stew of it. Anxiety isn't that high though; it's more of agitation. Try as I might to think happy thawts, my mind automatically reverts to headshots and strangleholds.

At the beginning of last week when all the real-life drama began, i think I was slightly elevated or in a dysphoric mania. I wasn't worried or panicky at all. In fact I found a hairline of fun in the midst of all the turmoil, because some sick part of me thought this was a never-been-to-before sort of adventure. I had fun prepping myself for answering questions at the ER. From past ER experience, i know ER doctors (or at least the Makati Med ones) can be such a****les when the patient or the patient's companion is a nitwit, so I did a quick mental review of my Dad's medical history and wrote a sh0rt script in my head that would describe what happened to him ad why we were bringing him in.

I had fun answering the questions that the doctors asked in their brisk, professional fashion. I felt like I was in an episode of House. In the first 20 hours at the hospital, I was asked the question What happened? at least twelve times and gave them my spiel at least twelve times. And yeah, I found that fun. I shot my answers back at them and asked questions at rapid fire mode; i was amused that though I spoke in manic speed they still caught what I was saying. People don't usually catch what I say when I'm elevated, so this cold manner of exchanging information was actually a treat for me. I dispensed the three-or-more-syllable words I had in my arsenal and they knew what I meant! Oh joy! Not once did any of the 20+ doctors I spoke with look me dumbfoundedly and ask "I'm sorry?"

But hey, roller coasters don't stay on the upswing forever. After the first few sleepless nights ad hectic days, I was ready to throw in the towel. And more than just the towel. Life's a be-yotch, and not the kind you can call BFF.

And it doesn't help that I can't get a wink of rest because well-wishers - both sincere ones ad busybodies - text every so often. And that nurses and /or interns and /or residents and /or surgeons come in every quarter of an hour or so to check on the patient. And that we, the patient's offspring, are constantly but unhelpfully coached by an epal uncle. And that my kuya is getting crankier and bossier than usual (to think that he's the cranky-bossy type already).

I'm not upset that my dad had a stroke. I'm not even upset that he had to be hospitalized and that bills are mounting. I'm agitated by circumstatials that I can't control.

Bad trip na talaga ito. This is so not good for me. Stressfest, mehn. I can't even remember to take my meds. Baka pagkatapos ng ordeal na ito, ako naman ang kailangang ma-ospital.

yes, i bite

severe elevation | high elevation | moderate elevation | slight elevation | stable | slight depression | moderate depression | deep depression | severe depression || anx: 1, agit: 1

I'm having doubts about being the director of the little production I got involved in. I still really want to do it, I'm pretty sure about that. But I'm not too confident about myself handling all the stress that'd come with the package.

I just barked at some people recently - over some seemingly small thing to them but an apparently large problem for me. Naturally I didn't think it was wrong for me to do so while I was in the incident; as far as I was concerned my reaction was in proper proportion to my anxiety and agitation. Which the other people didn't sense of course. It was only after I had withdrawn myself from the stressors that I realized I'd probably been to much for them.

I did not overreact. Triggered bipolars do not overreact. We're just really prone to excessive emotion on either end of the spectrum, depending on which side of the spectrum we're sitting on at any given time. I really hate it when people say inappropriate, insensitive things like "You're overreacting," or "Why are you angry?". Darnit. A lot of times there isn't any reason there doesn't have to be one; just an ongoing episode. Like I said, my reaction was in proper proportion to my anxiety and agitation.

But none of them "normal" folk give a damn about that explanation of course.

So anyway. Back to the directing business. I still want to do it, but I may end up murdering one too many unsuspecting victims and thus once again end up on everyone's list of most unlikeable people. Oh, screw them for getting in the way of my psychosis. I just hate everyone right now.

blink, blink

severe elevation | high elevation | moderate elevation | slight elevation | stable | slight depression | moderate depression | deep depression | severe depression || anx: 0, agit: 2


I am right now at a creative low, but at a productive high. I've been busier than usual and my attention is fixed on a couple of projects, so I haven't really had any time for creatives .

I had some sleep last night. No sleep at all the other night, which I spent thinking and praying and ruminating. Racing thoughts again. I almost pounced on somebody.

I've been feeling really edgy. I am once again guilty of skipping my Lithium. I think I've been off it for two weeks now. And as usual, I didn't do it on purpose. Really. I ran out of pills and I kept forgetting to buy some. The Hubby bought me a batch earlier today, so I no longer have an excuse.

I feel kinda distended. I'm so glad to be heading to the beach tomorrow. I'll be there for two days with the Hubby and the bunnies. Wish it could be two weeks. I'll be collecting myself so I can be ready to dive into more stress afterwards.

Venomous Head-Biting Week

severe elevation | high elevation | moderate elevation | slight elevation | stable | slight depression | moderate depression | deep depression | severe depression || anx:1, agit:2



I just about bit heads off this week.

I'm not proud of it of course; it's just a fact. I'm owning up. I hadn't been taking my Lithium as often as I should have been.

Alright, alright; I'm a nasty bwitch. I've always been one and I'm hopelessly wicked. And I deserve to go to Hell.

But so do you, so get over it.

Yeah hell, I'm evil. This week had an unmanageable overflow of vitriol. Of course, people around me have been heavily guilty of being idjits too, but I admit it's primarily my fault for being chemically imbalanced and not being responsible enough to take the proper dosage of medication.

And here's why: I entertained the idea that it might possibly be beneficial to skip the mood-suppressors these days - for a good reason actually. I have a long list of things to do and I want to be productive. I thought of maxing out on the energy and creativity that come with the elevation, so I didn't mind being faithful with the meds. Of course if I allow the elevation, I allow all the other things that come with it - including the irrational anxiety, the extreme irritability, an overbloated sense of self-importance, a blatant disregard for other people, a wicked-quick mind and razor-sharp tongue that doesn't ever back down on hacking-and-slashing especially when provoked.

Thus the vile predicament of being in a position once again of having to apologize for my behavior. I went on a hacking-and-slashing spree because of my obsessive need to be productive. Big sigh.

Some people are prolly tired of it, but I'm certain they aren't even half as tired of it as I am. They can call me abusive if they like; they're entitled to their own opinion. I can at least have it to my credit that I actually bother to make apologies and restitution later on, (unlike some others who aren't even bipolar, so there), so I technically can't be accused of being insensitive, unforgiving, unChristian and / or a jerk. Hmph [SNORT!]

Go hang yourself, I'd like to say to them. Or go hang me. Whichever is fine by me. See if i care.

But seriously, I hate being in this place but can't seem to help ending up in it over and over again, no matter how much I try to avoid it. Believe me, I have been.

Or don't believe me. You can just stone me and heap judgment on your own head. See. I told you you deserve it.