I’m in the kitchen and if I’m not careful, I will slice my fingers as I prepare the ten or more dishes I have in my head right now. A few years ago, you asked me what it was like to be manic. I couldn’t really answer. I was so into being manic and going with the flow that I was all action and no thought. Now that I’m managing this illness better, I can see things I missed in the past.
I’m actually sitting down to write this while I’m slightly manic- well, maybe MIDDLE EARTH MANIC. If I were a Hobbit, I’d be a happy, busy Hobbit. I’m more like Smeagal when I’m depressed and angry. I can’t believe I am making Lord of the Rings references here. I am not even a big fan. That is what this manic brain does. It makes, creates and then binds these ideas together and sometimes they are so funny and so fascinating that I just love it so much! I’m used to being depressed, so when this mind blowing creativity and fun feeling starts, it feels impossible to fight. But fight it I will because I am NOT going back to the hospital.
Look how I ramble. Right now, I want to stand up and put on some loud music and sing Taylor Swift at the top of my lungs and turn on the TV and watch the shows I missed. I want to make chocolate chip cookies and see what they taste like if I add cream cheese. When I stopped to write this- which is a miracle in itself, I was just cleaning up from a massive spaghetti dinner I made for everyone to eat and then of course I realized that everyone has plans tonight- including myself and there is literally no one to eat this huge dinner. I even made my own tomato sauce.
I got out the butter to make the cookies. Then realized the stove was a bit dirty, so I took off a pillow case from a pillow and sprayed it with natural cleaner and used it to clean the stove because it is a nice, soft cotton material and it will clean well. What in the heck dad. I have never cleaned anything with a pillowcase in my life.
Euphoric mania makes EVERY SINGLE THING I THINK seem like a good idea.
I fling things around. I trip and fall because I’m walking so fast. I pick up too many things to carry because I can’t judge my own balancing abilities when my brain is like this.
Right now I want to go to the store, do some work, get online, make a cake, think of a decoration for the mantle above the fireplace, rearrange my clothes, go shopping, meet someone new, drink a cocktail, send out a group email, start something fun on Facebook, find a place to go tonight even though I already have plans, organize my week, rearrange the spice rack, get on my hands and knees and clean the kitchen floor with a really good cleaner, clean the mirrors in the bathroom, rearrange the living room furniture, walk the dog, get a coffee drink, make some hand made cards, spend money, run outside for a jog, get new shoes, write a rap song, talk with all of my friends, plan a new campaign for work.
I’m having thoughts that feel very real:
- “I am a super happy person and I love my life!”
- “No one is as lucky as I am!”
- “I am so happy where I am right this moment!”
- “Isn’t it great not to have any worries!?”
I’m typing this so fast Dad that I can’t keep up with my own brain. My fingers can never match my thoughts and I’m a fast typer.
My brain is MILES ahead of me. I walk so fast and fling things around and shop and smoke and cook and write and sing and yell and dance and coordinate and color and create and smile and run rings around the world because this is what my brain is telling me to do Dad.
I hate it now. I hate it. I used to love it so much. The rabble and rubble. The weird words. Gazing into a stranger’s eyes and feeling connected. Seeing the color of a man’s tie and REALLY SEEING IT. Whatever in the hell that actually means.
I am super evil when the mania is dysphoric and I’m super woman when the mania is euphoric.
Right now Dad, I can feel self belief so strong in my head that I would write Oprah right now and see if she wants to collaborate on a book with me. If I went to a bar, I would find the most gorgeous man- a big football type of course and walk up and say, “Hey, what position did you play on the Packers? You must have been a professional!”
I would say that and he would love it and then I would really be in trouble.
I’m so proud of myself Dad. All of those years ago when you guys put me in the hospital and I hated you so much. I hated you with a burning Hell fire passion that I never thought would go away. You let a cop come to our house Dad. I never understood it. Now I do. I feel like calling the cops on myself sometimes just to make sure I don’t do anything stupid.
Here is the beautiful thing. Right now, it’s just cooking. It’s just thinking. I’m not going to give into it Dad. Never again. I’ve had enough embarrassment. Enough broken promises- from things I start when manic and simply never think to finish. It’s not that I can’t finish them. I don’t even think to finish them and so many other people were left holding my messes. No more.
It has been three years now. Today, I am HYPO manic and it ends here. Today, as I almost chopped off a finger along with the cucumber, made a dinner no one will eat, did laundry that didn’t needed doing, cleaned the house from top to bottom, made a fool of myself, but only a little bit! On Instagram and thought a lot of crazy thoughts today, I recognized I was manic within a few hours. A few hours Dad. It used to be NEVER and then it was months and now it is hours.
You once told me that this day would happen. I didn’t believe you. I thought it would be hospitals and police forever. It’s not.
I have the plan we created. I am writing you this letter. We talked about this. You said to me, “When you have a mood swing, write and tell me about it and I will be there for you.” Dad, this is my email. I am hypomanic. I’m too high to feel embarrassed, yet. But unless I stop it now, you will be dealing with an unhappy formerly manic person. This time, I am writing to get help before the downswing. Maybe we can prevent it this time.
I … AM… HYPOMANIC. Dad, I swear to god that when I wrote that I had a strong feeling – sort of a voice that said, P., you are NOT MANIC! You just feel good sweetie. Have some fun for once! I can’t and won’t listen to that manic talk. Not any more.
I have to look at myself as though I’m watching a film. If I stay inside my head, I will enjoy it too much.
I’m cleaning obsessively, thinking odd thoughts, playing loud music, wanting to drink with huge football players and thinking of flying around the world using my ARMS because this is what I’m always like when the euphoria starts.
Mania is not the real me. This incredible feeling is real- but it’s a chemical real. Cocaine is REAL, but we know it’s a chemical real. I have to see mania in the same way or I will give in to how good I feel right now. This has led to destruction every single time in the past and I’m willing to stop it now. I want to weep that I have to end this. Weep with frustration. But that is just my manic over the topic actress pretending to feel bad. I feel GREAT!
Next step. I wrote my therapist. Here is my note. The note sounds dumb and pointless, but I am sending it anyway.
We have a plan that I will write to let you know when I am in a mood swing. I am in a euphoric manic mood swing and it’s flying high and I could be a butterfly up in the sky and I absolutely can’t believe that sentence just came out of my fingers.
I need your help. I am writing my doctor now. I need a med check.
I am manic.
Thank you for your help,
NO, that is not my real name, but it’s what my fingers typed. Maybe I am more manic than I think.
That is not my name either, but my brain thinks it’s funny.
Dad, I wrote this here then copy and pasted and sent it. My mind just told me he will think I am DUMB. I sent it anyway.
Next, a text to my doctor. Sent. I need a med check. Those are the only words I could eek out.
This plan has worked for a few years now. Thank you for creating this. Thank you for believing in me. I turn to you now. I am here. I need help. I am manic, but I’m going to be fine.
Click here to read Letter from a Dysphoric Manic Person. Do you know the difference between euphoric and dysphoric mania? These two letters show how we can have a high energy manic episode and yet have very different behavior depending on the type of mania we experience.
via bpHope – bp Magazine Community