This was written in the wee hours of the morning. Specifically 4am. I am wide awake while also being tired and wanting sleep. I was tired when I fell asleep. I was tired to the point of falling asleep at 10pm. That was with the help of some drugs, but still, I fell asleep at that time. Now, I’m awake.
I have insomnia, more importantly, I might be manic. yay. This just about 12 hours after scaring my girlfriend with how depressed I was. Not suicidal, but talking about it like it was nothing in a third person point of view. Telling her that I know what med I’d take to kill myself. I know it. I really know how I’ll die. I was pretty bad. Now I’m not. This might be depression, this might be mania. I might be in between.
But I’m awake.
Moods and my cycle.
This is 100% mood based. This is always why I stress that moods are not emotions. Being sad doesn’t cause insomnia at 4am, nor does being happy make you bolt out of bed full of energy. This is also why moods suck. The flood of neurotransmitters has power over even my sleep.
I really want to sleep, I need to. I need to to stay healthy and normal.
Why is sleep so important? It stabilizes me. It keeps me normalish. It’s a primary reason why I’m sane. I’ve even standardized my time to precisely midnight to 8am. It took a lot of effort to get there. Interruptions in it can swing my moods one way or another. Too little sleep and I become more manic, too much and I become more depressed. Right now this is of the utmost importance.
Because I’m swinging rapidly.
Bipolar moods often last over months, even years. Right now, it’s 4 days for me – on the nose. Several days up, one day really down. It’s driving me nuts. It’s driving me nuts because I am now a slave to them. I plan my life around when I’ll be up and when I’ll be down to the best of my ability because my downs are just that severe. And when I’m up, I’ve yelled and screamed at someone for only minor reasons, and one rather major one, that that was mainly because he had a snotty tone with me.
These moods scare me more than normal depression. With a standard depression, I get eased into it, no sharp declines. As such, I get used to it. I learn to function within its parameters and voila, it’s easier. It really is. It’s less scary because I won’t overreact to it. I won’t have the taste of mania still in my mouth when all hell seems to break loose.
And then there are of course mixed states. I won’t even go into them other than to say that they’re worse than the worst depression. It’s almost like being sick with the worst cold imaginable and also drinking three pots of coffee. The split is, well, harsh.
Ugh. This on top of a kafkaesque mental health system to navigate that I won’t be able to resolve until the 11th. Two full cycles away. And I know what drug will make this all better. I know it. I have some of it. Just not enough. I have to make the right judgment call right now between saving my moods and proving a point. Because they think I’m an addict. Probably because I ask for it because it works. What a shocker. Asking for a drug that’s been proven to work.
Right now. I feel defeated. Utterly defeated, which probably means that this is a depression sort of insomnia. But the sick thing is that in 24 hours I’ll feel perfectly alright, even better.
Don’t ever want this. Creatively this illness is a treasure. Manic and I can write a book in a month, 110k words with rewrites. Depressed, I can write in multiple voices with ease, copying one author and translating it to my work. It’s a miracle what it does creatively, but right now I just want to be normal so I can go to work in the morning and not worry if I’ll have an outburst or be too sad to drive home safely.