Manic Mondays # 2 :: Mixed Episode and the Darkness of Mania

For details on Manic Mondays, please see this post.

Mixed Episode. That's what they call it in the psychiatric world when you feel insanely stimulated and darkly depressed all at one. Degrees of intensity vary from person to person and instance to instance, of course. Irregardless, it feels disconcertingly removed from ... everything and everyone that's supposedly real. It plain hurts, really. Its like trying to drive your car around the busy city whilst flooring the accelerator AND slamming on the brakes ~ like, at the same time.

Mr. Tinkerbell tells me, in the aftermath, that its seems like some evil demon possesses me ... 'its not you ... when you're like that.' Indeed, he's so right. Its sort of not me ... but it is my chemistry and physiology at work. And ... that's what plagued my Friday evening and night ~ a mixed episode. I know the trigger that provoked this latest episode. Just, well, I'm embarrassed to admit the foolish act I committed to trigger my behaviours. But, dear reader, I will.

Its like this ~ I fell off the cocaine abstinence wagon. Yup. Go ahead ... tell me how dumb ... ask me WTF possessed me to do such a dangerous thing. Still, berating myself doesn't alter the reality that I did cocaine again ... even after saying I never, ever would, several months ago! For those of you who don't know ... cocaine feels fabulous ... like an orgasm for the neurons. However, one hit never satisfies the internal monkey. The cocaine monkey, once awakened, wants more and more and more and more and more. She's a greeeeeedy monkey. And she only ever thinks about getting the next banana. Grrrrrrrrr.

Sooo, yeah, I fell off the wagon. And the monkey got pissed off when I cut off her banana supply. Add the stress of being broke and between paydays ... the stress of overcoming marriage strife via form of reconciliation ... the vulnerability that descends in times of unsurity and physical illness ... and the confusion of trying to decide what's right in life. Let's not forget the aging parents that live far away. That's quite a recipe for collapse of some kind.

Angry. I felt possessed by such rage. The kind of rage that makes a person turn normal, household objects into ballistic missiles. The kind of rage that makes a person say vile things to their loved one. The kind of rage to makes a heart race. And, yet ... I felt such despair ~ the despair that deludes you into believing its eternal. I could not reason. I could not negotiate. I could not relent. Self righteous ... lacking insight. Unable to concentrate. Mr. Tinkerbell did the wise thing he always does when I get like this ... he disengaged, silently. In the height of such agitation, one rarely takes time to think about how this behaviour affects persons present. He did not leave. He stayed. And said nothing. How painfully difficult!

After steaming myself into near heat stroke via shower, I turned on my Acer laptop and focussed on the internet ~ my blog, and various sites I have wanted to check out of late. I stayed up until 5 am. But, the internet did provide my brain with the diversion it needed to redirect itself. And, in the process, I discovered the fun of icanhascheezburger, I pimped this blog on various blog directory sites, I discovered psychcentral and I researched some meds I'll need to take.

A misty, sporadic sort of rain fell throughout the day Sunday. Its the sort of weather that makes me feel the dampness in my bones. As night drew closer, the wind picked up, and I could hear the cold howl of the wind, and the angry patter of rain drops hitting the front door. Its early, early Monday morning as I write this. The wind and the rain have settled. Its calm now. Quiet now. I can rest, soon.




Image Credit: Dark Matter by Mary Mattingly

obssessions

Remember that song from the 80s? "You are my obsession ... " a group called Animotion sang this song. Well ... hmmm. It seems Frizzy is fighting off the development of yet another obsessive behaviour. Yes, yet another. Grizzle and Growl. I need another obsessive behaviour like I need a hole in my friggin head! And, oh yeah, dear readers, its official. Frizzy has obsessive traits in her psychiatric profile. Ah-ha-ha. As if we all didn't already know that.

Okay. Back to the new-found obsessive behaviour ~ yet another addiction. Snow; the icey sort of snow. FUCK. Fucked up, as well. And so, things have gotten to the point where Frizzy has cut the sordid number out of the address/phone book, placed it in an envelope, sealed and addressed the envelope to herself, stamped it and then posted it in a neighbourhood post box. Now that speaks to the strength of the infant obsession, and the resourcefulness of Miss Frizzy Frazzle.

(Essentially, readers, I've had to cut the supplier's number from the address book, placed it in an envelope and mail it to myself, to ensure against using said number in an impulsive moment of insanity (I have these more frequently than I'd like to admit, recently).

i will NOT snort COCAINE again!

days of agony
hath i suffered
at the hands of
my decision
to insufflate
... the white stuff ...
... and ....?
for what?
for about 3 hours
of a buzz
a mostly
painful
buzz -
that scorching sensation
of the nasal mucosa;
that irritating
and obstructive
nasal congestion;
BREATHING -
suddenly a challenge.
its just not cool to
have conscious awareness
one's own breathing.
and then, there's
the lingering fever -
on again, off again;
fever brain makes one sooo
restless, unfocussed,
unable to cognate, really.
and the agony -
its still not passed -
well not entirely.
it lingers -
in my gut, now.
and my nose -
still feeling allergic
and mildly congested.
the fatigue -
its fading
slowly.
the sneezes
that feel like
they may accompany
some vomit
still linger,
tho they are
fading, too.
but never
the lesson
i have learned.
once again,
i have learned
the hard way.
i do not
plan
on ever
touching
this stuff
again.