March 6, 20013
I love sitting in the kitchen when I write in the afternoon.
The sun hits the patio door just enough so that I can feel it’s warmth without making my right armpit sweat.
It’s really beautiful outside today.
I can finally hear the birds singing louder than the snow and ice crackling.
You can almost smell spring in the puddles.
I kind of want to run out into the yard without shoes.
I’d sting the bottoms of my feet as I kick the remaining signs of winter away.
I just decided that we need to break down the play set in the spring.
Chunky can’t fit into that red baby swing anymore.
It’s swaying in the wind.
Too slowly.
I don’t know why, but it’s fucking hilarious.
I remember the day when Shawn forgot to strap Chunky into it.
Poor guy was launched like superman across the yard.
His face broke the fall when it hit a brick bordering our garden.
That’s terrible.
Why am I laughing?
Everything is so beautiful.
Colours are wildly vivid.
The lines that distinguishes one object from another are crisp and not fuzzy like they were a few days ago.
Everything is clear.
Clear.
Beautiful.
My head is beautiful.
Thoughts moving in and out pushing me, motivating me to do all the things.
“Too many things”, Shawn says.
I’ve got this.
My house is impeccably clean.
I think I need a mom-iform.
Uniforms for a mom.
I liked wearing my nursing uniforms. So easy to put on in the morning. I didn’t have to worry about stuffy pants and ironing.
Oh and blouses irritate my hair.
Hair doesn’t have feelings.
I have feelings.
I like me today and yesterday and the day before.
Everyone liked me too.
Everyone was happy.
I was happy.
Everyone was happy.
Now they’re all:
“You’re scaring me,” Shawn says.
“Mom can you stop partying at night because I can’t sleep?” Chunky asks.
“You’re perfect? Did you just say that? I asked you what’s for lunch,” my Dad says.
“Are you high?” my Mom says.
At what point did you all fucking think that maybe there was something wrong with me?
I know exactly what’s happening.
I know what I feel like inside and it’s amazing.
But I don’t know how that reflects in my behaviours.
I’m fucking scary apparently.
So that is why I just emailed Dr.B.
I know that it doesn’t end well when I’m like this.
So I probably should just admit that my head is funny.
It really is.
In my email, I told him that I wasn’t a drug “mixologist”.
Fucking cracked me up.
I have no idea what pills to take more of or less of whatever.
Drug mixologist.
I should write a dictionary.
* I am hypomanic. I wrote well over 15 posts in a day. All of them in draft. I have no idea if they were starts, middles, or ends. They don’t make sense. I was motivated to take on sponsored posts…a lot of them. I thought I could do them all. So get ready to have them jammed down your throat.
Anyways, since nothing makes sense, I decided to share my journal. They don’t make sense either but at least they are “finished” pieces and that they will shed some light into the brain of a hypomanic.
** I was put on horse tranquilziers
*** Kidding
Even if you don’t think you’re making sense, you write so beautifully.
Love you. xo
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Love you as you’re up and as you’re down.
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big, big hugs! & thank you for always being so brave in the way you share. mucho love -
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What Charity wrote is perfect, and I agree with her -
Janet
xoxox
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I’m always touched by your writing. Hugs to you.
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You can make good money selling those horse tranquilizers. Just sayin.
Don’t do that.
Love your bravery. Love how well you know yourself.
Sending strength
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I love you. Keep fighting. Every. Fucking. Day.
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When I read you, all kinds of emotions surface. I can cry, laugh and be proud of you all in one sitting. You never cease to amaze me. Wish I could give you a big old hug…not necessarily because you need one…but because I do. Love you Chica. Keep writing your truths, even when you’re not sure where they are headed. XOXOs
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Mania is fun…
until it’s scary.
Then it’s poo.
Maybe we could work on a mixology course for bipolar patients. I don’t think that would be a danger.
*smirk
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You’re so brave and strong. xoxo
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Good that you’re recognizing the signs in advance & asking for help! The changes in seasons probably affect your mood as well – not just the meds.
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I agree with Alison, even manic you are full of colorful poetry.
Would be great if you could come down to earth without a crash though.
Tell Shawn lots of us are rooting for you (praying for you) too.
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Glad you emailed your doc. Hugs to you!
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***Why am I laughing?
Everything is so beautiful.
Colours are wildly vivid**
Your wild, beautiful, unique voice always thrills me.
Love Uuuu. Xxxxx
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oooh. I’ve been here, honey. I love it when it begins because I get ALL the things done that I’ve neglected and many more I didn’t even know needed to be done. Like painting. Never, ever paint when in the upward swing of mania.
Praying for you, my friend and hoping you level out soon. Hang in there.
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I like you today and yesterday and the day before, too. And I hope that you find the perfect cocktail so no one has to be scared of you anymore.
But guess what? Your house is clean. That’s amazing whether you’re high or not… <3
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Oh, Kim…
Sending lots of virtual hugs your way. Hold on chica — you’ll make it through.
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I blame DST and my lack of sleep for now picturing you shaking pill bottles around like Tom Cruise in Cocktail. Proud of you for sending the email; it must be tempting to stay in that beautifulscary place.
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I’m glad that you know the feeling, though. And I’m glad you sent the email. (And wait, I wasn’t supposed to laugh at Chunky flying like Superman? Shit, maybe I’m high too.)
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Kim, I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again. You are so amazing and brave for sharing what you feel and go through and you are the first one who’s made me understand even an inkling of what mental illness truly feels like and how it affects those around you. Take care! Sending hugs…
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Keep on writing, mama. I’m sure it’s helpful. And I certainly appreciate the insight into what this is like for you. And yeah, you ARE amazing.
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Pretty much what everybody else said. It sounds scary, yes, but it also sounds….intense and funny and productive.
Keep on keeping on.
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Everyone pretty much said it all, but I am reading & your writing is beautiful. Thinking of you & sending you lots of love. xo
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Hang in there sweetie, and at least you’re feeling happy?
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