Tag: Cyclothymia

Gritted Teeth

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You know that feel you get where you’ve had too much coffee? Your heart beats fast and strong, energy courses through your being, but you’re so scattered you don’t know what to do first.

When the dude in front of you in the line at the shopping cart can’t decide if he wants to pay with cash or credit?You just want to shake him and tell him it doesn’t matter.

When you’re traveling with that one guy who just doesn’t get it? We’re all in the same boat, mate. We’re all here for the same reason – good times –  and your dramatics aren’t helping in that direction.

BUT what do you do when there’s no dude? No line? No coffee?

When you’re just so agitated and aggressive, but there’s no external cause?

This is the bad side of hypomania. This is the part that ruins all your hard work. But what can you do?

Grin and bear it?

Productive

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Well, well, would you look at that?

In one day I have completed a massive amount. Yes, I know it’s thanks to hypomania. And I’m doing my best to steer clear of unsettling elements.

These include:

  • exceedingly cheap beer
  • amazing coffee
  • crazy clubs/beach bars

And instead I am:

  • learning to surf
  • climbing volcanoes
  • taking a cooking class

Wish me luck!

Who are you and can I buy you dinner?

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I saw you this one time at a party.

I put on this one song I liked and you asked if it was this one band and I said yes and you winked.

That wink struck hard and fast. The chorus came on and suddenly there was dancing and I suck at dancing – but there’s no space on the dance floor for being self-conscious.

Then the party came to a close and there was only one thing left to do – I had to ask you a question.

But I didn’t then. So I’m asking now.

Who are you and can I buy you dinner?

Too Much Fun

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YES

Everything is coming up fucking roses.

Got a date. Got a party to go to. Got plane tickets.

Life is amazing! I can do anything! Let’s go to India!

MOVE TO MELBOURNE AND OPEN A PIZZA SHOP THAT’S ALSO A RECORD STORE AND HAVE ALL THE SEX IN THE WORLD

What do you mean “calm down”?

+++++

Recently I had a hypomanic episode that was, at its height, fucking ridiculous. Yes, good things did happen, but to me these happenings were literally signs from the universe that I was making all the right choices.

They were not. They were just good things that happen.

But when I get in that headspace – when the good chemicals are flowing freely – I just want to share it. All the good stuff.

I get aggressive. Obnoxious, perhaps, or just loud.

And it’s almost like I can see it their eyes, these people around me. Friends and family, faces on the street. They know something is going on, but they don’t know what.

And they don’t know how to react. And at the time I don’t care.

But afterwards, I get it. And sometimes, like now, I feel ashamed.

How do you tell someone they’re having too much fun?

Editor-at-large

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The job or an editor is disturbingly complex. Part proofreader, part lawyer, part marketing expert – but still an artist in their own right.

An editor keeps the story on track, points out the bits that don’t make sense, and asks intelligent questions that makes your content better -and makes you a better writer – even though you secretly hate the extra work.

An editor makes you more productive and able-minded by filtering out the crap and reshaping the weird into stuff that you can handle.

My editor has gone on holiday. And I’m making mistakes.

Wood-chipper

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Loud. Fast. Impossible to argue against.

People open their mouths to get a word in and they get filled with unrelenting rhetoric.

You want sass? You want sarcasm or witty comments? Sure, you can have these things. Along with a rough diatribe of pulped metaphors flying at you too fast for comfort.

Seriously, there’s a reason woopdchippers have a hood over the business end. Its to keep the splintered spray away from the general public.

And anyone dumb enough to get in the way of an operating  woodchipper gets what they deserve – a stinging face and uncomfortable splinters.

Introvert

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“You’re a what?”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Not you. No way!”

But it’s true. I have a sensitive physiology that experiences stimulus at a heightened rate when compared to them normal people (whatever normal is).

So I often pick reading alone over partying. I choose writing with my headphones on over drinks with mates (sorry mates).Or a documentary or sketch session over beer-pong and battleshots. It has happened.

It’s just hard to believe. Because I’m also bipolar. And the high times? They give me the courage and confidence to be the kind of person who starts the party. To get excited and make things happen. Not always intelligent things, granted, but at the time it beats standing still.

The high times helped me work manically in high-pressure environments. Without the high times, I would have struggled way more than I did.

The high times have made it easy to say yes to knew experiences. To go to new places, experience new things.

Without the high times I would have stared at my shoes instead of smiling at the cutie in the cafe that one time.

But it comes at a cost, and that cost is exhaustion. I can’t always keep up with the high times. And I need to be okay with that.

It’s time to acknowledge my introvert tendencies for what they are. Not as a weakness or a handicap, but as a physical predisposition, same as being bipolar.

Anxiety Party

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It’s a three-day festival like mardi gras! Except instead of beers and beads and boobs there’s anxiety and headaches and frustration! And instead of floats there’s bouts of crippling doubt that make it hard to get out of bed or leave the house! And this metaphor has kind of gone off track, except that the time frame is still accurate! I can’t believe I’ve been like this for three days already!

WOOHOO