Slept late due to late night the night before, woke up feeling quite fuzzy. Went to town with Alma and bought things I did need (pyjamas for Thailand) and things I didn’t need (slutty shoes and more ‘bargains’ from Claire’s. And Sangria and pizza) Feeling very jolly indeed, me and Alma laughed lots and by 17.30 I was racing, giggling wildly and noticeably struggling to stay on track when chatting to friends in the pub. Flight of ideas very evident and I thought this was funny.
Evening started off fun, we had band practice and eventually managed to pretty much write a song, very Gypsyish and bouncy, all I need now is to write some lyrics. But then Twinkle was watching YouTube things and the chopping and changing of music and videos really quickly started to make me really agitated and anxious. My pulse stayed at 110bpm for over half an hour, they wouldn’t turn the music down and I wanted to go to bed but knew they would keep me awake. Started to feel quite paranoid then that if I went upstairs Twinkle and Ray would talk about me and be pissed off with me for acting ‘grown up’ and asking them to be quiet. Tomorrow is the anniversary of Twinkle’s mum’s death so I understand that emotions are going to be running high but was very irritated that despite this I need a bit of looking after because I’m not well.
In fact, the worst thing about this is trying to make people see which bits are the illness and which are me. I am anxious and worried that people will inevitably see meas being irritable and grumpy and irrational and anxious when it is the illness doing it to me. I am still me on the inside. Twinkle and I talked last night, she admits she is finding it very hard to deal with what’s going on, what with the mercurial nature of my moods and my unpredictable reactions. In turn I told her that I feel like she is my ‘mother’ or ‘keeper’ at times, that I feel she is telling me off, and stopping me having fun and whilst I fully recognise that she’s trying to protect me, it still sometimes feels like this will inevitably stop me having fun. There is a small but persistently ‘naughty’ part of me that is enjoying this newfound energy and the fact that I am relishing opportunities and getting things done and generally feeling a return of the enthusiasm which has either been extinguished by depression or stifled by medication in the past.
I understand what Kay Redfield Jamison writes about mania having an addictive quality. I feel quite resentful right now that the Lamotrigine has the potential to dim my flame right now, and also worried that I’m consigning myself to live in a world where the extremes of JOY as well as misery will always be muffled slightly.
Too many questions. I suspect I need a ‘proper’ blog to write all these thoughts in.
[crossposted]
