Being bipolar with MS

I'm not really bipolar, at least I don't think so, but there's this thing that happens to me sometimes, where I am busy and suddenly my fingers type very fast and I kind of go into a fugue state where I flow through my day without actually being part of it. 

The next day, I am overwhelmed with the blues and a feeling of insignificance and the urge to abandon hope and flee to somewhere, anywhere, where I can be alone with my thoughts.

It's not a good time to read books talking about suicide at those times.

Now that I know that this happens, fairly regularly, I try to ignore it and carry on, knowing that I will be better soon, after a bit of rest and accomplishing some things and yadda yadda.

Yesterday was one of my spin days. I wrote in the morning, volunteered in the afternoon, went to a talk in the evening. I don't believe I was truly present for much of the day, covered over with wax paper mentally, feeling separate from my environment. And then the evening session I went to I couldn't shut up at, despite my telling myself to.

Sounds pretty manic to me. Home and tossing and turning all night (to be fair, my sick cat was to blame for much of that), and now today I am on the edge of tears and just wah wahing to myself.

It happens fairly often, this rapid change. When you feel physically good with MS, you feel as if you are on speed. You can DO things, the fatigue is eased for a moment, you don't feel as if you are going to collapse into a narcoleptic pile at any moment. You can physically sit for a bit and NOT fall asleep. It's a rush.

So off you spring like a bunny rabbit and you do many more things than you are used to in a day and then huzzah, you pay for it with tired neurons and a post accomplishment hangover.
People tell me to pace myself, etc etc, but if I lived my whole life according to my bad days I truly would give up. I have to have hope that something will turn out right, sometime, that the me that is inside can still struggle through the wax paper and interact.

The more I find myself being inappropriate during my up days, though, the more I think I should stay away from people. Which isn't a good thing.

Time, I foresee, to get some help...again...or maybe I am overmedicated....

Rain, rain, go away...

Well, to be fair, the sun that's been hiding for the last several days is actually making an appearance today. I love feeling it on my skin as I curl by the windows.

No, it's the internal rain that's getting to me.

Battling depression isn't pretty. When part of it is due to organic brain disease, that's even more fun. Sometimes I don't even know who I am any more.

I'm disorganized, I overspend, I do silly things with my short term life choices. Sometimes it's a bit scary as I try to negotiate around the me and me-but-messed-up parts in my head.

I probably should have a keeper, someone to be accountable to. But in my twisted mind, I don't want anyone to play that role.

I feel a bit like a badly behaved horse, trying to fight her way out of a stall, but resisting the halter that would lead me there.

I wish they'd get a grip on what was going on in our heads, we MSers. Some of us have no cognitive or emotional problems; some of us hide them and suffer in silence; some of us display them for all to see.

Last week I bottomed out and I still feel like I'm in an unreal state, not really here, not really present. It's bizarre, like I'm recovering from a bad cold or something. My brain is crowded around with clouds and mist.

Where is that sun?

Tightening circles

I am afraid, yes, as my friend Paula and I used to say to one another.

MS is sneaky. It makes you feel "almost normal from behind", another favourite family expression. I think I am the same as I ever was. But I'm not, and I find that inescapably hard.

No, it's not the physical symptoms. Of all the things I miss, it's the mind I miss the most...

Just had a lengthy talk with my ex, a man who knew me (as much as he was capable of) for the last 26 years. He tells me I've changed, that I am emotionally swinging back and forth on a rollercoaster, up and down, unpredictably so. He tells me I am not the same, should not trust myself in public, should warn those who deal with me that unexpected things may happen.

Normally, I'd tell him to get stuffed (I mean, my reactions to an ex are often different than they would be to another person), but he makes a good point. Before I left my job, I knew I had to leave - I was weeping uncontrollably, high as a kite one minute, low as a turtle's underbelly the next. I felt bipolar. It was the fatigue and the lesions seem to be in my mood area, perhaps.

I'm still the same - even his slight criticism of me has made me weepy. Why? Because I was offered the chance to do something interesting, and although I realized it was probably too much to take on, I was talked into a smaller role. Thinking about it now, I know I won't be able to handle it if I am challenged, which I probably will be. My memory losses are legion. Presenting is a terrifying thought, keeping track of conversations is impossible. I can focus for one to 15 minutes - but an entire half day? And remember things? In a crowd of 40 people with opinions of their own? And all the noise?

And imagine if I should break down and cry? I would DIE of embarrassment.

So I'm sad, because I realize I can't do this interesting thing. My circles of operation tighten around me. I feel my MS pants tightening around my body, making it harder to breathe.

It's a grief process every time, because I play with the idea that I can be somebody and then realize that that's all in the past. Now I will be a somebody, but a smaller one, more peripheral, girded about by my MS cerebral hug. Or is that a smothering?

Feeling the need to get drunk....;-) thus killing even more brain cells!

Fortunately I've lined up a helper who may be able to help me redefine myself. I just hope like hell she doesn't tell me to just think positive and do these things. I am too self-aware to do this, amongst my former colleagues. I still have a bit of my pride....