The Eagle Has Landed

[VivaLasViejas]

The eagle has indeed landed.....and landed softly, instead of crashing and burning as she's done so many times in the past. Thank God.

This morning I felt completely normal when I woke up to get ready for work (even though I maintain that 5 AM shouldn't even be on the clock). I marveled at this new sensation of well-being, and have continued to enjoy it all day. This is what it must feel like to NOT be bipolar.....to wake up each morning and not have to run a self-check for symptoms, to go to work and stop by the store for a gallon of milk without picking up a new car on the way home. (Well, I've never done that exactly, but I did drop a wad of cash in Wally World last summer that could have sheltered, clothed, and fed four of their employees for a week.)

Now, for most people that statement would prompt a response along the lines of "Yeah, so what? I feel normal too, just like I do every day." But for me, it's nothing shy of a miracle.......especially after soaring as high as I did this time. This was far from the worst manic episode I've ever had, but I still let it get pretty out-of-hand before I called my psychiatrist, who promptly bumped up my medication. And once again, there are lessons to be learned; this time, I did better at getting help before things escalated to the point of no return, but I could have, and indeed should have called sooner.

Why, I ask myself after each go-round, do I think my will is stronger than the disease? Have I ever been able to contain the crazy by simply wishing it away? And why, oh why do I still enjoy my hypomanias so much when I know they will almost always progress to full-blown mania, turn on me, and bite me in the butt?

Already, much of the past two weeks has faded into history and there are large blank spots in my memory, which are entirely too much like the alcoholic blackouts I used to experience. I'm fortunate that I was able to recall most of my two-day orientation to the long-term-care hall at work, because I was able to carry it off on my own today without forgetting TOO much of what I learned. However, I barely remember the events that led to my deciding to call my doctor, and significant chunks of time are missing from the days following the med change as well.

What's more, I was just reading over some of the blog entries that I made during the episode, and I don't even recall writing them for the most part. THAT is how jacked-up I get sometimes; by the time I get to admitting that I might---just might---have a little hypomania going, I've crossed the border into manic territory. I think this last time I coined the term "pre-hypomania" to describe what I was feeling, but looking back I realize that I was already hypomanic then......and things only got worse after that.

As I told a close friend recently, mania is in many ways as intoxicating (literally)---and as attractive---as alcohol. It's also every bit as dangerous for me, because when I'm in that state I do not CARE if I annoy people, spend money I don't have, upset my family, or make a scene in a restaurant. (Which I did. On my son's birthday.) Oh, maybe once in awhile a little common sense may slip through and make me stop short, but it's only a minute or two before I go back to doing whatever it is I feel like doing. And the worst part of it is that I don't get scared about ANY of this until I've come out the other side of the episode.

So this post is more than just another story about taking a walk on the wild side; it's documentation of what happens when I let a 'high' get away from me, and a cautionary tale to which I can refer the next time I'm tempted to let the sweet madness wash over me.

[VivaLasViejas, ASN, RN]

LisalaRN99 said:

Being relatively new to really reading the posts on this site, I am certainly coming back for more! You have such a gift for the written word! Kudos!

Thank you! I appreciate the kind words and see that you have commented on one of my other posts as well. This is the sort of thing that makes the struggle worth it.