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. 

In the dead of the night

Image stolen from

As I lay there in the blackness in the grips of 3am anxiety-induced insomnia, I realise that my teeth are clenched so tight that my jaw is aching. I just want something, anything to release me from this mental prison. Suddenly I hear a patter down the hallway and I feel a little person jump into the bed behind me, it’s my daughter. “I love you Mummy, SOOOOOO much” she says sleepily snuggling up to me. I hug her tightly, “I love you too sweetheart”

Her unexpected presence is enough to jerk me out of the trappings of my own mind and I am thankful to be in that moment, warm and safe in my bed with my husband snoring softly beside us. I look at my beautiful daughter in the darkness somewhat envious of her innocence and I hope so badly that she will never have to fight the same inner demons as I do.

Back Where I Belong

I am very happy to report my first day back at my old work was a success! 

I was starting to worry at about 1am Sunday night when I still hadn’t managed to go to sleep, I had taken two melatonin tablets earlier in the evening but they are really hit and miss anyway and they certainly weren’t working that night. It was too late for a proper sleeping tablet and I hate taking these as they give me a right hangover the next morning.

So I was left lying awake with my insecurities until I finally drifted off around 3.30am and woke up at 7am. 7am!!!! SHIT!!! I had ½ an hour to shower, dress, blow dry my hair and get four uncooperative, argumentative morning-hating children ready to leave the house by 7:30am. Somehow we did it, the kids were easier than usual, everyone found a jumper and nobody forgot their lunch box (unlike this morning – where do all the jumpers go anyway? Are there little jumper fairies that come and steal them while we sleep? Plus my eldest is going to be very hungry when he arrives home today!)

After my sudden start to the morning I found my body trying to catch up on sleep as I was driving into town, since this is unpractical and rather unsafe I spent the commute with the radio blaring and the windows down letting in the brisk 2 degree Celsius breeze trying desperately to keep my eyes open and stressing about how this wasn’t a very good start to my first day back in four years.

 

Luckily when I arrived and got out of the car I woke up properly and was excited to get back into the routine of cleaning out the livestock and getting the shop ready for the morning. (Yes I said I was excited about cleaning, enjoy that as I will probably never say it again!) 

It was just like old times, customers were lovely, my colleagues are the same lovely people I used to work with, my boss still likes rearranging everything every five minutes, I found myself spouting out animal husbandry advice that was still buried deep within my brain and I can still catch fish!

The only thing that is different is the addition of a store pet, a giant Mancoon cat named Leo, he is gorgeous and really, really naughty – apparently he was in a mood yesterday but he jumps up on everything, he particularly likes perching on shelves containing glass bowls and fish tank ornaments. Leo doesn’t seem to like me though, he gives me death stares and every time I picked him up (to remove him from a ‘breakables’ shelf) the not so little bugger bit me on the arm and then chased my legs when I put him down again, I don’t think he appreciated this stranger coming into his home and spoiling his fun.

 

So I know it was only one shift so far but I am really glad I have been given the opportunity to go back, it’s such a totally different world to the public service and it made me feel like I was part of a flexible considerate team that was making a difference, not just a worker bee adhering to strict time schedules and clocking on and off. For the first time in years, this feels right.

Do you get along with your cat? What would your dream job be?