Off peak ramblings

I want to write. Scratch that, I NEED to write. I have run out of “on peak” internet data and “off peak” runs from 1am to 7am when I am supposed to be sleeping – or at least lying in bed pretending to. As a result I have been unable to blog in what feels like an eternity, I am counting down the minutes until the first of October s that I can reconnect with the world again.

Its currently half past midnight and I am penning this on my trusty iPhone while lying in my bed being a good girl and not getting up and running to the computer. In half an hour my internet connection should work and I can post this – and all the other mildly manic garbage I have written in the last few days. 

I really am supposed to be sleeping, something that I haven’t been doing much of lately. My husband is snoring lightly and has one arm draped over me in a protective manner, it turns out that arms are surprisingly heavy and the weight of it is making breathing slightly difficult. I slowly push it off of me and gently guide him onto his side facing away from me, sighing in relief as the oxygen floods back into my body.

25minutes to go.

I slept better last night (around 5hrs) and I am so much calmer today, which is arguably a good thing but simultaneously frightening because I am terrified of ending up in another depression, over the last few weeks I have promised myself that I would not let that happen.

In my wildest imagination, in the wee hours of the morning while my heart beat fast and my leg furiously tapped out the beats to the dance music playing in my mind, I fantasised again about running away, so they couldn’t find me, couldn’t catch me. I decided that I was going out on a high this time, my death, fantastical and romanticized – never again would I be touched by the cold hand of depression.

20 minutes.

Fuck it, I’m going on the computer anyway.

Sing for Me

There are 1000 thoughts rushing through my head like a freight train, my jaw hurts from clenching it too tight, my skin is alive and fizzing like a firecracker about to go off. I can’t quite decide what to hear, what will make it slow down, stop the pins and needles on my face from driving me into oblivion. My eyes burn with unanswered tiredness, change the music, change the mood. 

None of this is real anyway so just let it go, release me into slumber...

What have I done? This blank minded sheep I am, where will I go with this heart in my hand? Nothing is real, I’m dreaming again, this world is but a figment of an imaginary land. 

Dance with me in the moonlight, dance beneath the stars. A billion lights keep shining, like fireflies in jars. Write for me a Ballard, write for me a song, sing for me in the moment, let the lyrics linger on.

Shrink Wrap

I saw my psychiatrist again on Tuesday, she took one look at me and raised her eyebrow and after a five minute conversation she said I was becoming manic. I asked her why she thought that and she replied: "You have cut all your hair off, you are unable to stop bouncing your leg, you're sitting forward in your seat as though you are about to sprint away, you're talking a mile a minute, you're switching subjects at random... shall I continue?"

I confessed to her that as well as reducing the anti-psychotic I had secretly halved my Lamictal dose too, but going off it had made me feel so much better that I wasn't prepared to go back on again. She challenged the fact that reducing my mood stabilizer had made me feel "better" suggesting that perhaps it had just made me hypomanic.


We discussed an action plan in case the mania escalated and how to recognize the red flags of when the hypomania was becoming a problem - ie reckless/dangerous behavior, paranoia, behavior that could affect work or social interactions. I agreed that if these red flags appeared then I would increase my Lamictal dose again.

She also gave me sleeping pills which I agreed to take, but only if I had less than 3hrs sleep for two nights in a row - they do put me to sleep but they also give me such a terrible hangover the next day that I am unable to function let alone drive the kids the 20km round trip to the school bus at 7.30am!

So I have another psychiatrist appointment next month which is good, but she said I could call up and she would fit me in in if things escalated in the meantime. She is very hard to get in to and books out 6 months or more in advance, luckily I thought ahead enough to make a bunch of future appointments a while back so I am not left out in the cold in the middle of a mood episode.

I guess I know that I have hit hypomania but to admit it is admitting that I really do have bipolar, something I desperately want to be in denial about right now. 

Hypomania or helpful?

I am wondering if I am starting to show a few signs of mild hypomania, I’m not euphoric by any stretch but I’m not depressed and I am irritable. I’m still an insomniac but I am less tired in the mornings than I was, I have also been getting bouts of paranoia, I’m speeding in the car a lot more without realising it, ‘oversharing’ to strangers, feeling the need to listen to dance music loud and I’m more impulsive - yesterday on a whim I decided to cut my long hair short and dye it “bimbo blonde”. 

The hair salon I go to is managed by a friend of mine and is located at a large public hospital in the city. A lady in her 30s sporting a baby pink dressing gown came down quietly and asked for a cut and colour, she looked worn out and very unwell, her story unfolded as my friend’s colleague Catherine put the foils into her hair and it was clear the poor woman had been to hell and back. 

Suddenly a look of horror appeared on the ladies face and she said “Oh my gosh, I never asked… how much will this cost?” Catherine did a quick tally up and told the lady the price. She started crying and said “I am so sorry, I should have asked before… I can’t afford this, you will have to stop.” Catherine’s expression was one of ‘oh crap, I don’t know what to do, and you have ¼ head of foils in, it can’t be left like this!’

 So without thinking it through I immediately offered to pay for the ladies haircut, which I just “knew” was the right thing to do – I mean the poor women really needed the pick-me-up after all that she had been through. The lady started crying and was so thankful that it made everyone else well up too, in the end another client that was there chipped in some money and both Catherine and my friend did as well and the lady left feeling much happier.

Now, I like to do nice things for people, it makes me feel good to change someone’s day for the better the only trouble is that I wasn’t really in a financial position to be making that kind of offer, I did it impulsively the way I tend to make decisions when I am hypomanic. Luckily the others had decided to chip in and I had spent less on groceries this week so I was able to make it work but my good intentions seem to come out of my mouth before I have thought about the implications.

I’m torn because I am currently reducing my meds starting with the anti-psychotic, I have cut back from 80mg a day to 20mg and I’m not sure if this mood shift could be totally unrelated, related to the decrease or a withdrawal based thing. I don’t want to go back on that drug due to side effects and I really don’t want to numb away any chance of creative thinking or potential euphoria – I was depressed or flat for such a long time, I just want to feel good again and the fear that that could be potentially destructive scares and saddens me. I hate this illness, I question every thought that comes in my head, I don’t know what’s real anymore… 

What do non bipolar people experience? What is ‘normal’? I wonder if half the time I’m just overthinking things…