Bipolar Disorder, Everyday Life, Uncategorized

What Shoes are on my feet?

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There are days that I amaze myself at how well I can function.  I am up, dressed, and totally on point.  Out the door before I am supposed to be, at my desk early and cranking away at the good ole to do list and making grand progress.  Almost robotic in a way.

 

Then there are days like yesterday and today.  Yesterday I was at my favorite craft store buying supplies for Sunday’s craft class (beaded friendship bracelet, I know, fun right?!?) and in order to access my rewards, I needed to enter my phone number.  I started with my area code and I was good to go.  Then the next three numbers I was able to get one or two correct and then my mind went completely blank.  I stopped, pulled out my phone, accessed the settings section and looked up my own phone number to give to the cashier.  I was humiliated.  I apologized for taking so much time and then went on my way.  I wanted to cry, I was so incredibly frustrated with my brain, but I thought, what was the use of crying.  It would achieve nothing, and it would ruin my practically perfect make upped face.  I walked to my car with my head held high and prayed I would not trip over my own feet and face plant.

Then there was today.  Day two of the higher dose of the tried and true, old school medication.  Side effects have been minimum and more of a nuisance than anything else.  I was groggy and still am.  But, I got myself all dolled up, told myself that I was going to rock it today and got myself to work early, had my to do list in hand, along with about 19 pep talks, and a large bottle of water so I could stay hydrated (and a small wish that the bathroom wasn’t so very far away from my office).  The fatigue was coming and going as I was plugging away with my tasks, but I kept telling that fatigue to go strangle a frog and leave me alone.  I forced myself to continue to re-focus on the tasks at hand and before I knew it, the clock struck 11 AM.  At this point I took a break and did some face book scroll scroll.  My brain needed a break.  There’s nothing like making a pre-existing mushy brain do accounting work, but to do it for several hours straight, while under perhaps over medication drowsiness, that ladies and gent takes talent!

So, scroll, scroll, I go, with my feet firmly hidden under my desk and it occurs to me that I have no idea what shoes I am wearing.  And clearly this is an incredibly important thing to know at this very moment.  I have no clue why this came to my mind, but I had to know what was on my feet and for the life of me I had no idea and it was making my head nearly explode.  I had no recollection of what I put on my feet this morning, what I was wearing when I looked in the full-length mirror, what was on my feet when I hopped down out of my giant SUV, notta.  Tears welled in my eyes as I scooted out of my desk and looked down to see that I was wearing my cowboy boots, the most perfect addition to my yellow flowered sun dress.

I miss many things.  I miss being a size four.  I miss not having dandruff.  I miss not thinking about Bipolar each and every day of my life.  But, one thing that I really miss, is the consistency in which my brain used to function.  Don’t get me wrong, I DO still have great brain days, but boy do I have some shirty brain days that change up the odds quite a bit.

The medications I am on right now are heavy, but they are bringing me out of a hell of a monster of a mixed episode that had me laying stagnant in mania.  I know that I will not stay on these meds forever or even for an extended amount of time.  But in the meantime, I am going to have to think think think as Pooh Bear says, because the reality of the situation is this brain of mine is pretty mushy.

This further reminds me of the saying that goes about suggesting being kind to someone because you don’t know what battles they are fighting.  Be kind.  They may be in a place where they can’t remember what shoes are on their feet, their cell phone number or who the vice president is.

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