Laughter

Like all people who live in Bi-Polar Land (i.e. all of us who have Bipolar Disorder Type 1 or Type 2), sleep is very important to maintaing our stability. Because of this I read with interest anything I come across that 'sleep specialists' write about getting a good night sleep. I wish I didn't....

After a second relapse and a stint of home hospitalisation, I am finally feeling better. It appears the new drugs regime is working. What I mean by 'working' is that it is giving me sufficient biological/physiological stability for me to access the sum total of my resources and experience. To me that's what drugs are for: they give me back ME.

Whenever I have the opportunity to spend time with people who operate in the 'real' world, I have noticed that I always feel a strange mix of emotions afterwards. Following yesterday's BBQ organised by my hubby's work colleagues (a splendid bunch of people) today is no exception.

Here is my attempt at identifying those various emotions so that I am not left 'holding' a slightly painful and nauseating brew inside myself.  I feel:

I have this urge to write. The trouble is, I haven't a clue what I want to write about. It feels like an itch I can't scratch! When this crazy situation occurs, the best way I have found to deal with it is to let Batty speak. Batty is my very own BPD - see her above? I do this by continuing to type and seeing what happens.. 

We speak, and we speak some more. Some of us even listen. We use English to communicate so it is reasonable to assume that we understand each other. In 'normal' circumstances we don't anyway but Bi-Polar Land goes one step further: it turns some part of what we say into a foreign language that requires translation.

Here are some of the most common examples:

It is now two months since I started my new medication (Carbamazepine - aka Tegretol). In a bid to find some sort of bearable balance, I have played with increased dosages and decreased dosages. I have taken the medication in higher dose in the evening and lower dose in the morning. I have stopped taking it altogether in the morning and taken the whole daily dose at night. I am so all over the place that I am not even sure whether I am going up and down any more!

Struggling as I am currently with recovering some sort of physical balance whilst playing with various dosages of my medication (Carbamazepine, aka Tegretol) something suddenly occurred to me: was I ill or was I sick? And if I could answer that question, what was the difference between illness and sickness?

I have just returned from what SHOULD have been a two week holiday in France visiting my elderly parents. It turned out to be a three week stay with ten days of illness in the middle. What happened?

I am used to taking to myself - in fact I have elevated it to an art form. I wrote a whole book based on that premise and very useful too it was in my recovery. Conversations with Batty is an exercise in unbridled self-talk and, much to my surprise, I found there was a lot of wisdom locked in that internal dialogue.