On Saturday, Sunday, and Monday, I felt good–normal. Monday evening I started to feel really good. Last night (Tuesday) my brain kicked it up to high gear–I was happy and flighty and distracted and my mind was going a mile a minute — and my friend who was over for dinner started looking at me like I’d lost my mind. I went to bed and I’m pretty sure the only reason I slept more than three hours is because one of my meds essentially knocks me out.
When I woke up at 3 this morning and was perfectly content to be wide awake, a little red flag went off.
Shit. This isn’t normal.
So I do what I always do when my brain does new weird shit. Text my therapist. She told me to call my psychiatrist.
And now, as I watch my descent into depression I realize:
I knew this was going to happen. I knew this was going to happen. This isn’t new shit. This is old shit that just hasn’t happened for a while. I just….forgot… I guess. I remember this happening in grad school. The bad experience with SSRI’s triggered a good few months of this crap. But before that…this happened All. The. Time.
But seriously? How the hell do I forget this? How the hell do I “forget” the one crucial thing that could be the defining factor in determining what the hell is wrong with me and what kind of meds I should be taking.
In any case, I’m pretty sure this will help clear up the “is or is not bipolar” question we’ve been kicking around since November.
In the meantime, I’m going to suck it up and ignore the looming depression threatening to pull me under and do my damn job.
All the while being thankful that I can suck it up.