So, this is a vulnerable but honest and important entry. It’s necessary to discuss this part of Bipolar.
My mood has not been consistent for a while now, but it hasn’t been too terrible as far as extremes. I’m functioning. I’m not always thrilled about it. Sometimes I move too fast and say something I regret, or I exacerbate my fibromyalgia and physically hurt more than normal, but I’m functioning.
Two nights ago, some serious mania and psychosis set in, full on with hallucinations of someone who was not really there, and then (and this is the part I’m afraid to share but will…) I really wanted to score some cocaine and have enough for a few days. I’ve not done cocaine in over two decades, and I never have a desire to do so. Yet, there it was. Of course, I have no money and more importantly, don’t know anyone who does or sells cocaine. I mean, obviously. Why would I? I used the drug when I was 16 years old for a six month time span relatively soon after my dad’s sudden, unexpected death. My home environment at the time was terrible. Mom always depressed in bed or gone to work, leaving me with a drunken step-father who… and I kid you not… we later found out was a murderer.
(Image Credit: flickr)
Look, I’m not trying to say I should have ever done drugs, but I am providing some context for the situation.
Anyway, as I was actually physically itching for it, it occurred to me I could crush some of my pain pills and snort them. Now, thank goodness I didn’t totally lose the plot. I spoke to a friend for a while, and gave my meds to my husband. And I took care of the hallucination in the short hallway from our room to our bathroom by simply turning on the light. I took two PRN meds I’m allowed to take per my doctor (PRN meds to help sedate and even things out for issues just like this) and took a couple of Melatonin and fell asleep (finally!) around 6 or 7 a.m. and slept a good, long while. I woke and everything was back to normal. Whatever Bipolar-normal is… sigh.
I think maybe one thing that led to it is my sleeping cycle has become so much worse. Luckily, I was able to secure an appointment with my psychiatrist next week, and I’ll relay all of this, and we’ll work on preventing this from happening again because it was as if a whole new person had taken over my body.
But that’s the trouble with Bipolar. Does that shit to you sometimes. I hate it.