Wednesday, April 18, 2012


I am a deflated balloon lying on the ground. That is how I feel right now. I did want you readers to know that I took your advice, was a good, obedient little patient (I usually am, really) and decreased my Prozac. This had the exact result I thought it would have. I went from being happy to be alive, perky, fully of energy, and very motivated, straight back to my regular, tired, blah self in one day with the dosage lowered. This most unfortunate turn of events is really distressing me.

For example, I was at work today, so tired that I was sitting there with my eyes closed whilst talking to some stupid student on the phone when someone from the upper office echelons came and tapped me on the shoulder to wake me up and hand me my new ID badge (because I always lose my ID badge). This happened as opposed to yesterday when I got up at 3:30 AM and stayed up, went to McDonald's for breakfast, went to the psychiatrist (early), went to the mall, walked through the mall very quickly, went to my Mom's house, took my brother to Starbucks and Subway and work, then went to work myself and worked for six hours, then went home. That was yesterday. Today, do you know what I did? I worked, got back from lunch seven minutes late (we have a timer on our computer system so that the boss can see if we return five seconds late, and I am the insane one), because I took so long eating my sandwich slowly that I lost track of time, and at the end of the day, I came home and did nothing. I have no more of that pep. The wind has been taken out of my sail. I feel exhausted for no reason, and last night I slept for eight hours.

This really sucks. I know it's no one's fault, and that it's not healthy to become manic, and all that. I know that the doctor had to decrease the medicine because it is probably some stupid medical guideline for psychiatrists to do that if you seem remotely hyper, and I know I was remotely hyper. But now I am back to being BLAH. Blech. Ick. In the span of 24 hours, I went from Speedy Gonazalez to being too tired to keep my eyes open whilst sitting in a chair at my boring, dead end job talking on the phone to idiots.

This really bothers me. It has made me lose hope for the future, because I no longer feel capable of what I felt capable of doing just yesterday. I hate this.

But I don't want to this to be a totally depressing post. And besides, I might be able to convince my doctor to increase the dosage again in a couple weeks (there is always hope). So I will tell you about the rather ridiculous conversation I had with my friend, who I shall call K. because that is her first initial. K has bipolar disorder and is generally on the manic side at all times, all year, every year. So when I was a bit hyper (I refuse to say I was hypomanic because I didn't think I was), I had this conversation with her that rambled on forever like our conversations always do.

"So then my mother told me I was acting like a crazy person just because I was skipping around her house, and I told her to stop using that stigmatizing terminology."

K: Did she ask you what that word meant? Wait a minute. Did you just say you were - what? Skipping? Around the house??!! You?? You're always so SERIOUS all the TIME. That is not like you AT ALL. You are always the one to get mad when I throw popcorn on you at the movies, and you are always telling me you can't believe I flirted with the waiters who were too young for me. *(She is 57, which is a year older than my mother, and she flirts shamelessly with every good-looking 18-year-old she sees).

Me: I was enjoying myself! I also posted on Facebook that I enjoy skipping down the halls at work when no one's looking and I don't care if anybody thinks that's odd.

K: You posted that on FACEBOOK? I wouldn't have posted that on Facebook. People WILL think you're odd.

Me: I don't care!

K: Ok, well, maybe I should join you. We could go skipping somewhere and when people stop and stare at us I'll just say, "I'm Bipolar and she's Schizophrenic so don't mind us! We don't care if you think we're odd!"

Me: Fabulous idea! I know the perfect place. We'll go to the Pier in St. Pete and skip all the way down it.

K: That's a long way. I guess I wouldn't be able to wear my six-inch high heels to do it.

Me: No, you could go barefoot and if you cut your feet on glass just choose not to worry about it!

K: Yes, we'll be manic together!

K ended up saying that I cheered her up even though the day before had been the anniversary of her father's death and she was very depressed about it. She said, "You always make me laugh." At least someone appreciated my perky outlook on life!

But that was yesterday. Today, I'm just deflated. Oh well. I really do appreciate all your advice and input. This is just a frustrating experience. Eh, mental illness.


  1. I am sorry you feel so deflated today. I hope your doctor finds the right med cocktail to allow you joy without mania.

  2. Oh sweetie. I hate that it's so damn hard to have balance between having energy and being hypomanic. I totally understand.


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