Surfing the Bipolar Wave

I do believe I’m in hypomania. *Sigh* This isn’t the euphoric kind of mania. It’s been filled with anger and paranoia. My first impulse was to call my doctor, but how much more can the bipolar medication dosage be adjusted? Isn’t it enough that my hands shake when I hold them out?

It’s different this time around. I feel manic, but in a more subdued way. The bipolar medicine is working somewhat, but not enough. It’s difficult to shut down my thoughts at night, but I’m still managing to get some sleep. I just don’t feel refreshed when I awake. And my sleep specialist (read about insomnia and bipolar disorder) wanted to add an antidepressant! That would’ve sent me straight to crazyville.

The anxiety that I felt up until this point should’ve pointed me in the direction that something was happening. Instead, I swallowed my Xanax and hoped to the gods that it would soon disappear. I didn’t know that it would disappear only to have me think that the government was listening in on my phone calls. It sounds a little bonkers, but I am connected to someone who has recently been incarcerated. I didn’t think they were after me, but it sounds crazy to my own ears.

The Reality of Living with Bipolar Disorder

I’m starting to believe that I cannot be cured. Am I doomed to surf the bipolar wave and wipe out again and again for my many years to come? I am so sad. I believed that I had this thing kicked. Now I’m back to a place that I haven’t been in for years. I can’t remember the last time I was hypomanic. Well, at least I’m not seeing visions. Or is that next?

My heart is pounding in my chest. What do I do now? Do I continue my fight or give in? If I continue my fight, do I call my doctor? What can I do differently to change my outcome? I don’t think that giving in is an option. The problem is that I’ve tried almost every medication for bipolar disorder available. The next thing to do is to change doctors. Oh, what a hassle that is! It takes three to six months to get into see a psychiatrist. The first thing I’m going to do is to talk to my psychiatric nurse.

I’m not going to give up. Life is too precious to give up. My life is too precious to give up. It may take all I have inside me to keep on fighting, but so be it. I will endure.