Rapid Cycling Bipolar I find to be peculiar.
One part of a day, I am so exhausted I feel like I have cement boots on and can hardly walk. Then other parts of the day I want to make 1,000 cloth face masks while making cupcakes.
The end of last year I was in treatment for two months, being released days before Christmas. I had the lofty idea that due to the treatment and medication changes, that I would be better, not cured, but better and stable, for like a year or more.
A month or two into being back home, anxiety medications were reintroduced because the anxiety returned like the wicked witch from the west trying to steal my little dog.
The pandemic hit in March, and the anxiety further increased but it was manageable due to the medications.
Welcome to the end of April, and I am like a bug squished on a windshield.
Insert embarrassment and shame. That idea that I would be fine and dandy, squashed.
Tears, so many tears. Some are due to fear, others are from the shame. Followed by the feelings of letting others down and being a burden. So much heaviness.
A melt down yesterday, has me feeling hungover today, accompanied by puffy eyes and a pounding headache. Just too many tears.
I am embarrassed that this is happening. I want to just be better and live a life that is not a roller coaster. I have numerous fears about what could come of this, and it is those fears the help me keep things together as best as I possibility can.
I may go up and down, stay in one place then excel into another. There are days when I can brave the world and others that I simply cannot.
As much as I want to take up occupancy in my adult blanket fort, that is just not an option. Leaving the fort at home, I must step outside, press on and face the world.