it’s been so long since I’ve felt the pull of hypomania. And right now as I sink ever deeper into the pit, I find I’m missing the ethereal highs. Right now all I feel is despondency and despair. And I can’t even cry about it. The freedom to cry has been locked down so tight for so long that the tears won’t flow freely. Oh, my eyes, they water, and I get a lump in my throat, but just silent tears running down my cheeks. Not satisfying at all.
I wrote this while coming down from a hypomanic high. Back when I was undiagnosed and, or rather, misdiagnosed, with unipolar depression. One day I may lose myself in the upward pull, but today is not that day.
LIGHT AS THE BREEZE
Free at last
Unburdened by despair
Hope no longer
Four letter word
Light as the breeze
A leaf on the wind
Blowing where it takes me
Up and down
As many of us bipolar bears, I have been on a cocktail of numerous psychotropic drugs. While keeping me from being actively suicidal, they have definitely left me feeling numb. No severe lows, but no highs either. This feeling flat has robbed much enjoyment out of my day to day existence. So after being on it for two years, and my blood levels getting lower and lower with the same fairly high dose, we started titrating it. Once down to 600 mgs spread out over two doses, my doctor let me quit it completely. And within days my mood skyrocketed. Hypomania for the win. After being disinterested in everything for so long this has been a welcome change.
Of course, there’s always a downside, isn’t there. Impulsive behavior. Reckless reckless thoughts. Knowing the outcome is always the same doesn’t make not giving into them any easier. Thankful for a solid support network and an understanding, yet firm, therapist. Who is letting me email her through the holidays if necessary, as I’m in a “vulnerable place” right now.
So happy holidays to all and may you stay safe.
Hi there and welcome. The hardest part of the beginning of any endeavour is knowing where to start. And sometimes when to stop. But that’s a tale for another day. So let’s start with a little bit about myself. My name is Squirrel. Have suffered my entire life with uncontrollable mood swing with no understanding of why. Until my wonderfully amazing therapist mentioned bipolar. And a light went off. Eventually. I fought the idea for a few months but after researching it I couldn’t deny the truth anymore. And thus a very late understanding was achieved.
I learned that some of my favourite artists suffered from bipolar. I was now keeping company with some of the greats like Shelley, Byron, Woolf, Van Gogh, Plath, and Poe to name a few. This got the old squirrels in the brain turning. What is the connection between art and madness? A huge one, as it turns out.
One I’d like to explore through my own writing and experiences, and yours as well. Feel free to comment, share your thoughts and writings, or reach out and contact me if you feel the need of desire.
One request: keep it supportive and respectful. We all experience our journeys differently. Let’s celebrate those differences.