Thursday, March 14, 2013
Actually, to be truthful, it's like visiting an old friend, one that you haven't seen in years, yet are able to pick up where you left off as if no time had passed.
It's strangely comforting, while at the same time, frightening. I've missed it, longed for it, if only for a short time. I knew, however, that its presence could instigate darkness, confusion and potentially harm.
Even though I knew it was inevitable, it came upon me slowly, as if it were stalking its prey. I guess in a sense it was, and in the in end, it captured me. I need to enjoy it while it lasts, as well as try to tame it, and send it back into the shadows.
It has a clinical name, hypo-mania, as well as physical feelings of jubilation, freedom, happiness and a sense of all being right with the world. Then why, many would ask, is it something I need to be circumspect with? Feeling wonderful and full of life is a good thing, and for many it is.
However, for me, it's something to be carefully monitored. I have a difficult time discerning whether my mood is just the typical good mood of an outgoing person, or if it is a symptom of something that could possibly consume my soul.
I'm angry that I've been put in the position of being tempted to go with the flow, and ride the wave of sunshine and rainbows, I'm angry that I'm tempted to toss all the meds and allow this feeling, the feeling I associate with the "real" me, to be freed from its cage and allowed to fly unencumbered.
I can't allow myself to go with the flow. The symptoms of hypo-mania are prevalent and I know them well enough to call them by name, to recognize them for what they are, and to know to try my best to keep them at bay. If I allow them to take me, as I'm so tempted to do, I know there will eventually be a fall that will be deep and a darkness will envelope me.
There is an upside of the spiraling fall, my creativity will thrive, my writing style will become more poetic, lyrical, and insightful. Most of my best pieces were written while being tightly held in the talons of the demons the fall brings. I can't allow that to happen, others will be pulled in with me, and their lives will be affected. They will become hyper vigilant and my every movement will be monitored.
Even though I enjoy the overwhelming feelings of joy the hypo-mania brings forth, I'm angry a doctor that solely deals with the physical body, and knows very little of afflictions of the mind, demanded I toss one of my most critical medications. I'm angry that I was put in a position of having to defy his warnings and defend the regimen that has kept me stable for a very long time. I'm angry that I yielded and insisted I would only half the dose, not stop it.
Since I have realized what is really happening, I've taken appropriate action and conferred with the man that is responsible for the stability of my moods. I will resume his recommended dose of the forbidden medication, and I will increase another one slightly.
If I'm lucky, I will be able to hang on to the best of my personality, and quell the sleepless nights, the ever present need to be doing something, to be doing anything, and other tell-tale symptoms of hypo-mania.
I will enjoy it while it lasts, I will mourn its passing and I will rejoice when stability, once again, enters my life.