There’s a double-edged sword thing when it comes to being diagnosed as “cyclothymic.”
On the one hand, I count my damn blessings I’m not Bipolar I or II; I cycle too quickly to meet the criteria for either.
On the other hand/edge/whatever, I’m still left with murmurs of the aforementioned disorders and they still dick with my life and the lives of anyone unfortunate enough to consider me worthy of their time.
I’m not being maudlin here; I’m just stating a fact.
Yes, I’m medicated but I suspect I need my dosage upped. Even if my level of meds was hunky-dory, the medicine I’m on–Lamictal–treats the “low” spots and not so much the high spots, A.K.A, the mania. All things considered, I’m awesome with that.
Seeing as I’ve broken from my nighttime routine of reading a book on my phone to write this and the post prior to this I started in my notebook, I know the mania is coming. In fact, it’s probably already here.
Sounds sinister, doesn’t it?
But unlike Bipolar I or II, I don’t go out and have promiscuous sex or take crazy risks or spend us into the poor house. Instead, I’m more productive (though also more fragmented) and feel better about myself.
My special flavor of mania is the ambrosia you read about when you studied Greek mythology–not at all like the stuff you’ll find at a southern dinner.
It’s empowering. It’s seductive. It makes you better, stronger…more, somehow. It’s the rainy season coming to the desert after months of drought. (Glad I’m writing this down since I’m sure my psychologist will find this all quite interesting…though she doesn’t think I’m “crazy.” But that’s a post for another day, kiddies.)
The other place, the depression, leaves me drained. Leaves me tired. Leaves me apathetic and without a drive to do just about anything other than what is necessary for my family to maintain some semblance of normalcy.
I remember finally having to confess to my editor/boss at b5media that I had been recently diagnosed as “bipolar lite.”
I was like, am still like, the ant in the fable of The Ant and the Grasshopper where the ant is the dude preparing, like a demon, for winter and the grasshopper is being a douche. I had to make sure I had enough content cued up to last me through the “winter.”
This is where I break a blogging rule and acknowledge the fact I haven’t posted in a coon’s age. You’re not supposed to do that, just so you know.
I have pictures edited for a garden update.
Pictures edited for a few recipes and then some pictures where I seemed to fail, repeatedly, at all things cooking and managed to create my first “HOLY SHIT THE OIL IN THIS PAN IS ON FIRE OMG FUCK FUCK FUCK” fire.
I have a post written, long hand, on The Stages of Grief and blogging, which I think is dynamite, as well as a rough draft about how it’s OK to fire your mental health provider and the different reasons why people don’t.
I have this idea, which started as a new Twitter background I was going to do but grew to epic proportions, for a Pinterest-worthy book and gaming quotes series thing. I have the quotes, now I just have to make the images and since I ended up with over 100 quotes, this will be a very long series…assuming I follow through with it. Since I’ve yet to finish my Word of the Day series, the outlook on this series ain’t too grand.
I have drafts of posts, which are written out in my notebook, with titles like: “When Will Your Children Stop Being Assholes? Never,” “I Look Like a Fat Meth Head” and “Man, This Day Kind of Really Blows.”
I have a Candy Crush cheat post in my head waiting to be written (I’ve already made the gif.) for Frontburnr as well as a post about a simple game helping a psychologist discover a new type of brain cell–also made an awesome gif for that.
The thing I was writing in my notebook, right before I started on this, is about This American Life and has a list of the shows you just gotta listen to even if you despise the liberal media and all it’s socialist proclivities.
That was a joke, people. Chill the hell out.
So, for right now, I’m welcoming the mania. I actually want to have sex. I actually want to write. I actually want to talk with people and interact like a relatively normal human.
Cross your fingers I can channel the ant long enough to last me through the winter.