Hypomanic: Something Had to Break

Something Had to Break

Hypomanic

Irritable

On verge of tears

Over-stimulated

Over-scheduled

Too many demands

Too many changes

Too soon

Must scale back

Spoke to psychologist

Contacted psychiatrist

In bed

Resting

Now

 

Creative Writing Prompt: Rainstorm

Irainstorm

Prompt for first creative writing class: RAINSTORM

Rainstorm

The torrential rain kept her awake. She couldn’t sleep. Wasn’t rain supposed to be relaxing? What was it that disturbed her? Why could she not sleep? The rain didn’t lull her, it irritated her. Reminded her that all was not well. The hills may slide. The mud carrying all away. But she was safe. Wasn’t she?

Was it anxiety? Was it caffeine? Was it simply the din amplified by hypomania? Yes, when in this state any noise irritated her. What the hell did she think she was doing this week? Starting to rewrite her book, take a creative writing class, and work out with a personal trainer on the same week her son began college.

He wasn’t away for college. Oh, no. He was attending the local community college and didn’t yet drive. So, on top of everything else, she remained his chauffeur. Fuck. He was getting better. He was more independent than before, but he still relied on her to drive him to classes and to doctors’ appointments. He still didn’t prepare his own breakfast and lunch. He’d just eat a protein bar and banana. At six feet tall and 125 pounds, he needed to eat more.

Caring for him, worrying about him, wore on her. She had hoped that he’d be eating more by now, that he’d make a sandwich or eat a bowl of cereal. She had hoped that he’d feel ready to take his DMV written test, so he could learn to drive.

Though, really, the time that they spent in the car was their special time. Often he wore his headset and cut her off from him. But, there were times when they talked, when they laughed, when he shared his thoughts with her

Back to the storm. Crap transition, but the rainstorm felt like her life. Stormy, but cleansing.

2019 Goals

2019 Goals: Revise book, Writing class, Exercise
White Christmas with snow-dusted ponderosa pines

Christmas 2018

Christmas was both beautiful and bittersweet. We spent the holiday among snow covered ponderosa pines with close family, dearly missing our recently departed father.

2019 Goals

Time for me to get up out of bed, take better care of myself, and accomplish some goals.

Revising My Book

As I’ve mentioned in my previous post, Eliezer Tristan Publishing is publishing my previously self-published collection of blog posts. When I self-published the content in book form, I simply cut and paste my posts in chronological order. Now, I’ve hired book coach Aaron J. Smith to help me organize the content into themes.

Wish me well. I must be sure not to overdo it and trigger hypomania.

Creative Writing Class

Starting Wednesday, I’m taking an Introduction to Creative Writing emeritus class (for older adults like me) at our local community college. I will learn basic elements of fiction and non-fiction writing: audience, structure, voice, description, setting, and manuscript development. Learning these basics elements will help me develop my skills as a writer.

Homework, deadlines, and social stimulation are all potential triggers to hypomania for me. So, I’m both excited and more than a little anxious.

Exercise

Research shows what many have observed — exercise improves mood. I knew that, yet remained sedentary. At my psychologist’s urging, I’ve made a commitment to exercising.

First, I signed up for a class in Qi Gong at my city’s community center. According to the class description:

Qigong is a safe practice that focuses on improving the overall
health and wellness of your mind-body-spirit. It is a sequence of
gentle movements synchronized with the breath to open the body’s
pathways.

This week, I joined a local gym and signed up for personal training. Friday I underwent my initial fitness assessment. I was dying just doing the ten minute warm up. My thighs kill me. I can’t even get up from a sitting position without using my arms to assist me. Obviously, I’m out of shape.

Grieving

Grieving -- KittOMalley.com
Geometry art created with iOrnament app.

Grieving, not depressed. No bipolar depression. No depressive thought process. Just grief. Just a deep overwhelming feeling of loss. 

I miss my father. Miss him deeply and dearly.

Going to individual therapy and taking my medications for bipolar disorder, but now may be time for additional support, time for a grief support group, preferrably one led by an excellent licensed mental health professional.

As a licensed clinician, I have a bias. I need a group leader with advanced clinical knowledge of serious mental illness like bipolar disorder, as well as grief. As someone with bipolar disorder and a history of depression, I’m at risk of complicated grief.

Not only did my father recently die, my mother is a stroke survivor living with vascular dementia. She lives in memory care, but wants me to visit more often than I can afford to emotionally.

Squeezed between generations, I cheer my newly adult son as he takes steps to overcome social anxiety and manage his migraines. Until he gets his driver’s license, I chauffeur him to and from specialists appointments.

Rather than spend all my time and energy caring for the needs of others, I must care for myself. My personal boundaries are poor. Groups overwhelm me. I take care of others, not myself. Find myself overstimulated and become mildly hypomanic. Perform, rather than sit, listen and accept help from others.

Always a been performer, love being onstage, enjoy public speaking. Now’s not the time to be the center of attention, to be right, to be smart, to solve problems, to be the hero.

My brain isn’t functioning at its best. Grief-related brain fog. Can’t concentrate. Can’t remember. Simply overwhelmed emotionally. Often, I can’t even come up with a simple word to answer a question my husband asks. Cannot make a yes or no decision.

Today I deleted emails of great content I would usually share as a mental health advocate. I leave that to others for now.

Now, I grieve. Now I cocoon. Now I draw mandalas and patterns using iOrnament. Now I do jigsaw puzzles on my iPad. Now I watch TV.

Now, I cry softly, sometimes gently sob, for the father I love and miss.