I’m in stasis. I’m fucking stuck revving. In other words, my mind is racing to the point of leaving chemtrails but nothing else is moving. I know there is something I should be doing but no thoughts stay long enough for me to fully flesh them out. Those that linger, even a little, exhaust me. Hell, putting on lipstick exhausted me today. Is hypomania a blessing? Or is it a curse? I know I gave props to my Lithium combo but I think I was being a little generous. It’s true, I haven’t gone for a walk down the middle of the road barefooted and in my underwear recently, but has it really helped? I’m not used to feeling muted. It’s moments like this one that urge me to tell my husband that I think I am lying about being bipolar. It was the thirteen year old me that started it. Yes, it’s a hell of a long time (I’m 43) to lie about something but let’s just call this what it is – a phallusy. Everything, all of it, is in my head. I can just go off my meds and he’ll see. He’s patient when he chuckles and reminds of me the messes we will get to clean up. How exciting?! I hate it when he pre-gloats. The truth of the matter is I am on the lowest dose possible of Lithium. I have been told if I go higher in my dose, these symptoms will ease. I would like to call bullshit. Wait. I can’t. I don’t know. I do know I do not want extra resistance with weight loss, even though my hubby is all about the larger ladies. And that takes me to my second concern, sex. I mentioned I like having sex with my man. It’s very true and I don’t want that going away. I don’t know what would be worse – being in some sort of flux or not enjoying that intimacy. It’s bad enough the man must endure me, as a person, and my moods, as their own entity. But do I really want to add a lack of libido to that fiery mix? Wouldn’t it be like adding kerosene? So, I’m stuck people. By the way, going the route of silence and I’m not pleading to a crime I haven’t committed (lying) will lead to the topic I have danced around a few times and will be what I touch on in my next post, drugs. Me going back to using would be akin to me hurling a molotav cocktail on everything I hold dear. I used on and off (mostly on) for twenty five years. I was, initially, going to write my blog on my history with substance abuse. Let’s face it, I have serious knowledge on it. However. I wanted to talk about my madness, so to speak. In this world, clean and sober, I want to headbutt people, but I don’t. In that world, I did. I mean wanted to and then headbutted a few. I have a very firm understanding as to why no one wins by a headbutt. That knowledge and I hold hands. You could say we’re in a relationship. Even though, I have been tapdancing around that topic, it will be addressed. I can’t give you a look at my life without taking you there. I also know that I am a hot commodity when I’m playing hopscotch with the penal system. Hubba, hubba! Looks like as long as I can get past the “stuck”, I will always have something to tell you about and all of it has a lot to do with my mental illness. I was informed there are those who don’t like using the phraseology. Well, it certainly isn’t wellness. I could call it a disease because at it’s core, it’s most definitely dis-ease. I would prefer to just call it what it is; an illness. Right now, that illness has me stuck. I want one of these thoughts to get less tiring. I need create more. I used to make perfumes and oils. I love making them. Maybe I should get back to it. Aaaannndd here comes the anxiety and a new wave of exhaustion. I think for now, I am just going to go snuggle with Lovie Doll. Maybe she can help me make sense.
“If you think anyone is sane you just don’t know enough about them.”