Friday, June 6, 2008

Dear God, It's started again

This is day 10. I can feel it starting again. I woke up "slow"; I feel bad about that, because there were things - there are - things I need to get done today. Mary wanted me to go with her to the store, but I didn't feel like it. It's 3:15 now and I'm still in my pajamas. It hurts, Dear GOD it hurts. I'm sitting here typing in tears.

I realize now that I was hyper the past few days, even though I pretty much had a grip on my actions. I kind of knew that, but I guess I was hoping that my good feelings were a result of drug therapy. Ok, maybe I was wrong. Maybe I felt good because the drugs triggered a mostly-manic episode, and the lithium gave me the ability to control the high. I don't know though, maybe I really was never in control.

Appetite is wonky again. I thought about ham sandwich, didn't gag at the idea, and made myself a nice deli-style sandwich, which I couldn't eat. Maybe it's Miracle Whip. But I tried just meat on bread, and couldn't choke that down, either. I ended up eating four naked pieces of thin-sliced smoked ham for lunch.

I just re-read that first paragraph and can't really understand why I was crying when I wrote it. I don't feel it now. That was all of five minutes ago, and already the anguish has vanished. I am wondering if that is why my life seems to be mostly manic periods. I have memories of terrible, gut-slashing angst, but they seem few and brief. Maybe I just don't remember most of them.

Mary suggested I go get evaluated at the Pavilion, the local psych facility - an upscale Bedlam. Maybe I will.

More side-effects: today I'm dizzy, unsteady on my feet. I didn't mention it earlier, but I have had scratchy eyeballs almost every day.

The big thing today, though, is the slow. My arms are leaden, my feet feel too big, everything is moving in slow motion. My sleeping is back to "normal": I get to bed around midnight, sleep soundly until 3 AM, then toss and turn until morning. Then I go back to bed after breakfast. Today I slept past 10:00 AM and then took a nap until after 2:00 PM.

Even slow, though, my thoughts seem to dance and skip. There are, not voices exactly, but jumbled thoughts, like torn-up scripts all mixed together and squeezed under the back flap of the tent. In the past I would expect those when I was fast; it's a little worrisome to have them intrude when I'm slow.

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