Pardon me if I piss and moan…
It seems to have started with a headache, a mild migraine I think, which – although not as painful as some I’ve experienced – my vision was quite bad for a couple of days. Pardon the sentence construction.
No, back up. It started when, seemingly out of the blue, I had a voracious appetite for reading books. As behaviour out of whack goes, this was better than it’s been in the past. It seems like a long time since I’ve picked up a book that grabbed me – but two in a row? And then buying all five of the selections for CBC Radio’s Canada Reads next month? (By then I may not want to read ever again.) Far from being ‘bookish’ I usually lack the ability to concentrate on a story, be it fiction or non-fiction.
Anyway, it is Tuesday going on Wednesday. Last Saturday afternoon and evening I read, and then again on Sunday. Then, as the pages began to run out, I pulled another book off the shelf to think about as I wrapped up the first story. The second book could easily have been finished on Monday were it not for the fact that the headache came on. Even though I withdrew from social obligations due to feeling so crappy, I still managed to be drawn away by an impulse to fiddle with widgets on my blog. That kept me going all night – yes all night, and me with a headache! Morning came – that would be Tuesday, yes – and I had the TV news blaring in the background as I continued to fiddle with the blog. This lasted well into Tuesday evening, plotting everywhere I’ve visited on to a map widget, until an alarm went off inside me and I realized I was hypo-manic – at the very least. So what do I do (besides type without breaking paragraphs)? I download YouTube lectures – and good ones at that – of medical professionals discussing the manifestations of, and treatments for, bipolar disorder. Note to self – this episode is one of those occasions my p.doc. would want to hear about, despite having seen him just last week and feeling, frankly, kind of flat – neither low nor high.
At Christmas I lightheartedly mentioned to Mom that the odds in the gene pool have been against me going much longer without the first signs of heart trouble. She couldn’t hush me fast enough, of course, but it has fascinated me. Not that I haven’t had other things going on – the accident trauma in 2003, for one thing. But tonight I was thinking, maybe I’m the one who – having been treated for one mental health issue or another for most of twenty years – maybe I’m the one who will carry that weight for the remainder of my life. Things along these lines have come along way since my grandfather’s time so there’s plenty of hope for me but I must co-operate. Like taking my night-time meds for example. That would have allowed me to sleep the last two nights. What was resisting it all about? Also, I have got to cut back, if not cut out, caffeine. Even though I honestly think I need it to revive myself the morning after the aforementioned medications I need not – and should not – be drinking one form of caffeine or another until mid-evening. Most meetings I’m at after dinner provide herbal tea options.
So there. That’s my assessment of my disorderly mood to this moment. It’s past pill time and I think I will go to bed now, further distractions filling my mind even as I write that. Man, I hate being down on myself!