When you get diagnosed with Bipolar disorder, they should hand out a list of bizarre moods that might overcome you and also clue you in that it will be excruciatingly obvious to everyone EXCEPT YOU. What will be going in your head “what the hell is wrong with all you ass hats, would you get with the program here, and make it snappy!” Lately I’ve been in the taking 200 milligrams of I don’t give a shit about anything zone, also known as Seroquel. A right amount can be a good thing, slip over the border into too much and you have a chemical lobotomy. I stopped painting, writing, brushing my hair, even getting out of bed seemed to be a task that just really wasn’t worth the effort. And at the time it all seemed so logical, so right on the spot. I wasn’t really worried about it either other than a vague feeling of life shouldn’t be like this. I used to look forward to speaking my mind, slinging paint around the room, saying things that pissed some people off, etc.
Finally I got all scientific on the problem. I’m good at that kind of stuff. My major in college was Accounting until I realized that it meant that I would have to spend the rest of my life massaging numbers. That major came to a screeching halt after I realized that I had a better grasp on the subject than the teacher did, leaving me with no one to go to when I had questions. I’d rather massage people anyway. People I know of course. I’m not talking about massaging random strangers I encounter in the shopping mall.
So I started tracking my moods and the amount and type of meds I was taking on a spreadsheet and on the calendar. Sounds a bit complicated but it’s been worth the effort. On the calendar I just use little emoticons so no one would know what it was about if the glanced at our day timer that lies on the kitchen counter. I use a smiley face for really good days, a frowney face for bad days, and a confused face for those days when I’m in a “what the f@ck is wrong with me, and everybody else?” type of mood.
After this semi-scientific method of evaluating my sanity, I realized that I had exceeded the limits of my meds and that it was time to cut back a bit and see if my brain would do a kick start. I think it did help. Proof in point is that I’m actually writing a post. Yippee!